


London, London

by CascadiaKing



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friend Phasma, Bondage, Choking, Friend Rey, Happily Kinky Ever After, Hot Mess Ben Solo, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Hux Teaches Ben Safer BDSM Practices, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, Problematic BDSM, S&M, Self Kink Shame, Semi-Public Sex, Slurs, Suspension, Switching, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Verbal Abuse, boot blacking, top!poe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 04:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13896288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadiaKing/pseuds/CascadiaKing
Summary: “And so, I woke up, hungover and not realizing it was the day that would change my life --- forever.”Modern AU - Lawyer Armitage Hux / Actor Ben Solo (Stage Name Kylo Ren)Lawyer Armitage Hux shares a flat in London with Richard Brendol, the greatest living playwright in England. Ben Solo, a destructive actor trying to make his big break lands the lead role in Brendol’s play. Lives intertwine and twist with Ben’s sudden rise in fame, the complications and their dark desires.





	1. A First Order

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kylux Modern AU RomCom Trailer](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/361929) by MarbleNarwhal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check notes below for chapter breakdowns.

Armitage double checked the address on his phone. Google maps directly points to here. He straightens himself. Oh good, I’ve got this. checking his hair in the forward face camera before knocking on the door.

After a moment, the door opens to a bleary eyed disheveled man in his forties. Wearing a hastily put on shirt, there are several buttons mis buttoned. 

“Yes? Package to sign?” He says.

Armitage blinks, “Uh, no, I’m here about the flat. You’re Richard, right?” 

“Yes, yes. Wait, what time is it? You’re early, yes?”

Armitage checks his phone which flares 13:02 and shows it to the man.

“Bloody christ, okay, come in.” He turns away and then turns back to look at him, “Armitage Hux, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Good, just want to check you’re not some stalker fan.” Stalker fan? He turns away again and doesn’t hold the door open for him choosing to turn away into the flat in his fluffy slippers. Armitage crosses the threshold and eyes around the place.

Humbly furnished, a couple of couches, table with a doily on top and a small TV. Just down the hall is an enclave of of inset shelving overflowing with books. 

“Shite, man, your shoes!” Armitage looks down at his shoes before looking back up to the man, “put on the slippers and I’ll show you around.” Armitage does what he’s told.

“Right, so, there’s the kitchen.” He points down the hall to a galley kitchen with the office in the end which would have been the sit in kitchen. Dark wood floors throughout. Old curtains and that charming british wallpaper that looks about 40 years past their expiration date. 

“Several questions I have that you must answer.” Armitage looks at him for a moment, “sure, shoot.”

“Alcoholic?”

“No.” Which catches Hux off guard. Does he look like one?

“Dog lover?”

“No.”

“Sex addict?”

“No!” Where does this crazy man get these questions from?

“You just have one cat, right?”

“Yes, short haired ginger, that’s okay, yes?”

“As long as it doesn’t piss everywhere that’s fine.”

“Your room is upstairs, follow me.” Creaking floorboards underneath steps, they climb the staircase where there three doors. The middle door contained the full bath, “Not much but it’s serviceable.” 

The man turns towards the door at the farthest part of the staircase and lays a hand on his doorknob. 

“Right, so the last tenant fled in the night and left all his shite all over the walls. I swear to god I’m not a weirdo.” Armitage looks at him. “Okay. Not as weird as the last tenant.” He opens the door to reveal a furnished room: desk, drawers, small closet and a full bed with a duvet. Every single wall was covered in Britney Spears posters. Even the ceiling. Garish Britney Spears posters that are all different from all stages of her life. Even the picture of her with her head shaved. 

“Heh. You’re right, this is weird.” Armitage shakes his head. 

“The posters are yours if you want them. Bin them responsibly if not.” 

Armitage looks around the room, no way these are staying. “Show me the bin then.” 

“That’s the right response.” Armitage laughs.

“Right, some rules: try and not make too much noise. Particularly when having sex.” 

Armitage shakes his head, “no chance of that.”

“Ah, christ, two losers in one house. Perfect, we’ll get along great!” Hux laughs. Although odd, the man is charming and seems laid back other than the slippers thing. 

“You okay with all that?” Armitage takes a second and looks out the window that he was sure to be spending a lot of time looking out of. Good location, not far from the station, excellent view and most importantly his beloved Millicent would have a home here. It’s a good pick.

“Yeah, it’s great.” 

Richard nods and holds out his hand which he shakes, “you could move in today if you want. I don’t care.” Cool.

“I’ve changed the locks since the ex-flatmate fled with his key so no worries about that crazy getting in,” he passes over a key.

The move in was quick, Millicent meowed angrily in her cage through the station. A couple of bags, cat things, and a suitcase and that was it. Armitage changed over his postage and then he settled into his new room. 

Millicent meowed, taking up a perch in the window eying the birds outside the window. Armitage pets her and watches the rain outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find my very NSFW Tumblr here: http://hentaizettai-blog.tumblr.com/
> 
> *Spoilers* Chapter Warnings *Spoilers*  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .Almost there  
> Scroll past if you don't want to get spoiled now!  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
>  
> 
> CHAPTER BREAKDOWN - Warnings
> 
> 2: Hux - Slurs, Transphobia  
> 3: Top!Poe / Kylo - Problematic S&M, Slurs, homophobia, submission, begging, kink shame, boot licking, cigarettes, slight C&B torture, humiliation, degradation, Unhealthy / Disordered Eating.  
> 4: Hux - Bondage, Suspension, Consensual, Checkins, Voyeurism, Dungeon, Teaching, Aftercare, Code Names  
> 5: N/A; None.  
> 6: N/A  
> 7: Alcohol  
> 8: N/A  
> 9: Abuse, Slurs, Homophobia  
> 10: Choking  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> .


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore image date/times.  
> Ignore my INCREDIBLY inaccurate understanding of English lawyers.
> 
> Did you read the Tags? Slurs in play.

 

A month passes without much deviance from schedule: work, eat, sleep, to the pub with phasma, work, eat, exercise, sleep. Richard and him fall into a regular schedule. Richard ends up spending most of his time at the flat but pops out to his writing circles and to the pub half of the nights. Feels like Richard has more of a social life than Hux does.

It all leads up to the big day for court. Hands shake as Armitage Hux delivers closing statements to the Jury:

“And, so, when the Defendant has only one piece of circumstantial evidence that places him in the vicinity with shoddy and sloppy police work as seen in evidence one through four. This is with a witness who has known memory issues and has statements that conflict with each other. Honestly, Jury” Armitage looks into the eyes of every member present, “A family man does not deserve to be separated from his family. This is my closing statement.”

The judge asks the Jury to deliberate. Hux downs coffee and goes for a walk, checks in briefly before going out to lunch which he doesn't eat much considering the anxiety. It takes four hours to do so before they shuffle in.

“Has the Jury come to a decision?”

“Yes, we find the defendant Guilty of two accounts of assault with a deadly weapon.”

The Courtroom erupts in cries and some with shouts of enthusiasm.

“Order, order,” the judge uses the gavel. The room quiets down. Hux clenches his jaw.

“Sentencing will be on the seventh of…” The judge’s words drown out with Hux’s heart sinking. Fuck. All that hard work. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Hux looks over to his defendant, he’s crying before he is taken away to return back to a holding cell to return back to jail. It was in that moment that Hux realized how sweaty and yet clammy he was. The tension in his shoulders, he lets out a sigh.

The day flashes in a blur of paperwork, anxiety, and disappointment until he find himself back at the flat.

 

 

Hux closes the front door, pushing his back against the door, sighing heavily. I need to sleep or something. 

“Fucking YES baby!” Richard screeches from his computer. Hux opens his eyes, removing his shoes and puts on the blasted slippers to pad into the next room, “what?”

Richard turns to face him, wide grin, “I submitted the final revision. I’m fucking DONE! Time for a fucking drink.”

“Congrats!”

Richard jumps out of his chair, rushing past him to the fridge, pulling out beers and opening them. Richard passes a beer to Hux, “you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“You look like a special kind of shit. There’s more beer in the fridge. You can pay me back later.”

Hux nods, “cheers.” Richard looks at his watch, “shit, I’m late! My boys await!” he proceeds to put on his coat.

“Hey, one sec.” Richard turns and looks to him, “yeah?”

“Your shirt, the buttons.”

“Aye, thanks. Sure the pub doesn’t give a shite.” Richard straightens out his shirt and leaves.

 

Hux sighs, drains his beer and pulls out another and does the same. Hux pulls out two more then goes up to his room. Hux strips his clothes off and leaves them crumpled without the usual care he has of making sure they all land in the hamper. He places the beers on his nightstand and falls into his bed.

Maybe Phasma is right that I need to loosen up more. Millicent climbs onto the bed and crawls onto his chest and purrs, “good girl, you always know when I’m upset.” Millicent rubs her face in his hand.

Three beers in and Millicent taking up her perch in the window again to watch the birds, Hux pulls out his phone, downloading a hookup app and sets up his profile. He lifts up his shirt, exposing his abs but not exposing his scars and takes a picture.  

Hux swipes no on all the hyper masc fuckbois. Hux drains the rest of his beer before he gets notifications.

 

“hey”

Hux pauses, before replying.

“Hey.”

“what u up to”

“Drinking, you?”

“nothin much”

“Ah. Do you like what you see?”

“ya can you host?”

“Yes.”

“Address?”

“Wait.”

“?”

“You know I’m Trans, is that okay?”

There’s a pause and Hux looks at the icon that says that this stranger is writing something.

“fucking gross tranny go kys”

 

Hux rolls his eyes and proceeds to block him. Hux edits his profile to say that he’s Trans. A different day but the same shit. 

 

More messages hit Hux’s box:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hux laughs out loud at that. Jesus fucking christ. 

Hux texts Phasma, “Are you still up? I don’t care, I’m sending you cringe.”

Hux proceeds to screenshot all of the conversations and sends them to Phasma.

Phasma replies, “Oh god. This is typical? I’m sorry. :(”

“It’s whatever. Just bored. Let’s go to the pub tomorrow?”

“Yeah, 6PM?”

“Sure. Goodnight.” Hux switches back to the hookup app and deletes it. Hux places the phone on his nightstand with his emptied beers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Messages from jerks to FTMs are from: http://transmenongrindr.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in play here particularly Slurs.

 

Ben removes his apron, completing another shift of work. It’s at a diner, the classic kind with pictures of classic cars and 1950s decorum. It’s the place with the fucking intensive milkshake machines that everybody in the world just loves to order and everybody loves to yell or harass the wait staff.  

Although the work is not steady, it pays the rent most times and he is able to have enough time to do auditions. Ben flicks through the tips of the night, not a bad night. He passes by the dumpster and throws the “call me ;)” numbers he’s gotten. 

Ben hits the station where he pulls out his phone to see a voicemail from his agent which he dials to hear.

“Hello, this is Emily. Just letting you know that The Judgement isn’t calling you back. I was certain that this would be it for you. Sorry. I’ll keep you in the loop for more stuff. Think you’re ready for another rotation of commercial work? I think that will help. How’s the weight loss going? Call me.”

Fuck. Ben places his head into his hands. This fucking was guaranteed. Backdoor conversations Emily was a part of. 

Shit.

Fucking damn it all. 

Maybe I should find another agent. 

How am I going to pay rent?

I’ll need to ask for more shifts.

How fast can I get a photoshoot?

What else can I do?

I’m just a no skilled fucking loser.

The train pulls up to his stop and he hops off, climbing the stairs where he turns down a zig zag of blocks to a ramshackle tall brick building dotted with tiny windows of flats.

 

Ben has two roommates, one of which is Rey, who Rey has come to stick herself to him. The flat is miniscule. Not even much of a living room which they don’t use anyways so they illegally sublease it to Steve. He’s rarely around but we’ve managed to hang sheets up to give him some semblance of privacy. Hanging sheets was the standard in this place, helps keep heat costs as minimal as possible and it was mostly the stove who provided the heat.

Rey was super against subletting but then several months of bad tips and Rey losing her job led to the necessity of it. There’s not much to know about Steve other than he has little possessions and when he came to move in, he looked like he has been roughing it on the streets for a while.

“Hey,” she says from the kitchen.

“Hi.”

“Bad day?”

“Yeah, no call back.”

She looks up from chopping mushrooms, “sorry dude.”

“Yeah.”

There’s not much to add to the conversation, and Rey is cooking something delectable. Some sort of stir fry. 

 

No.

Ben pulls out 6 boiled eggs to take to his room. Acting and Modeling calls for a strict diet and Emily told him to lose five more pounds. 90% of weight loss happens in the kitchen. 

Scale time. Ben gets on the scale and sees that he’s gained several pounds since this morning. Fluctuations happen during the day but Ben keeps them meticulously recorded on his phone.

After wolfing down eggs, Ben paces back and forth.

 

It’s the itch. It’s worse on bad days and this day has been bad. Ben gets down on his knees, punching his legs with his fists. Wanting to feel the pain. Needing to feel the pain. Needing to know he's alive. To take his mind and focus on the sensation, the pleasure, the twisted fucked up shit. It’s not enough.

It’s late but he knows Poe is usually up. 

 

“U up?”

“Ya”

“Can I come over?”

“Hurry up bitch.”

 

Ben throws his coat on and shuffles through his pants on the floor for his keys before heading out the door. Poe Dameron lives on the same side of town. It’s a couple of stops away. In typical fashion, it’s raining. Most days it’s raining cold rain upon Ben’s face.

Poe...is. Poe. It all started out with a brawl in an alley. Throwing drunken punches at each other. Ben doesn’t even remember what the fight was all about. But every time he was punched, he would laugh. Poe had this sinister look in his eye and one thing led to another and there he was with his hand wrapped around Ben’s neck and Ben became the hardest he’s ever been and begged for more like a needy slut. 

So here he is, unsuccessfully dodging the rain to his place. Fuck buddies? Hardly. He has no clue how to categorize what they have other than fucked up.

Ben reaches the flats and rushes up three flights of stairs, shoes thumping the whole way up and dripping water on them.

Poe opens up the door, disheveled hair, a smoke hanging from his lips and also wet from the rain. “Oh, seems some trash landed on my doorstep.”

Ben pushes the door to get in but Poe stops him, “Why should I let you in?” 

Do I really need to explain? Ben looks hard at him, “you know why.”

“More than your simple brain can imagine,” Poe lifts his dirty boot and places it on Ben’s upper thigh, “kneel and beg, you piece of trash, for the privilege.” 

Ben hangs his head low, chin touching his chest and kneels. “Please let me inside.” It’s fifty fifty at this point that Poe would let him in, and when it doesn’t happen he chooses to kick him in the chest or in the face. Ben has had to invest in some quality bruise makeup to hide the bruises for his auditions.

Poe looks down at him, disgusted, “fucking filthy,” he grabs Ben’s hair yanking him up to his feet and drags him inside. The place is a mess, it generally is. Clothes strewn about, not much for a one room flat. Hardwood floors, exposed brick, a worn red high back chair in the corner next to the window and a bed on the floor. 

Ben lands hard on his hands and knees. Poe takes a drag of his cigarette, taking a seat in his chair and looks down at his shoes. “Hm, looks like I’ve got mud on my shoes. Get over here, cunt.” 

Ben moves slow, deliberate, head down on his hands and knees towards poe. “Filthy pig needs more mud, yes?” Poe shoves the shoe on Ben’s forehead, “lick them.” Ben’s stomach rolls. This isn’t my thing. Ben inches closer, sticking his tongue out along the top of the boot, the cleanest part. Closing his eyes tight, he laps up the rain from Poe’s boot.

Fucking. Disgusting. Who knows what kind of homeless piss or garbage was on the bottom of his shoe. I’m sure I have a boot print on my forehead. Some time passes and Ben switches to the other boot, sticking to the top half of the boot, ignoring the mud on them.

“Hm, is the pig avoiding the mud?” Ben looks down at the floor. Poe ashes his cigarette into Ben’s hair, nearing the end of the smoke, he extinguishes it on Ben’s shoulder.

The pain is intense but Ben clenches his hands and jaw. 

Poe grabs him by the throat, lifting him into onto his knees, “fucking worthless stupid trash, can’t even use your mouth correctly.” Poe spits on Ben’s face and Ben flinches. 

“I’ll just have to use your mouth for me then. If you beg hard enough.” 

Shame blushes through Ben, “Please.”

Poe punches him square in the mouth, “not fucking good enough.” Ben wipes blood from his face, smiling.

“Say it: Please, can this filthy fucking faggot put my faggot mouth on you?”

Shame bleeds in Ben’s words, “Please...can this filthy fucking faggot put my faggot mouth on you?”

Poe backhands him, it stings but less than the punch, “again. Louder.” Ben repeats it.

Poe kicks Ben hard in the stomach, “louder, faggot.”

“Please, can this filthy fucking faggot put my faggot mouth on you?”

Poe continues to backhand and spit on him and demands Ben to beg again.

“I want the whole fucking complex to hear you beg for me.”

Ben moans, pleads, “please, can this filthy fucking faggot put my faggot mouth on you? Please, this faggot will do anything. Just. Please. I need it.”

It’s likely the neighbors can hear it, the walls thin. The next door the neighbor’s TV hums louder.

Poe unbuckles his belt, pulling out his cock, “get over here pussy.” Ben inches closer between Poe’s legs and takes him into his mouth.

Poe grabs his hair and proceeds to fuck his mouth. His cock pushing against the soft palate which Ben chokes on, tears coming to his eyes. Poe pulls his head away from his cock, “you’re not fucking gonna puke on me. I’ll make you eat it, understand?” 

Ben opens his eyes, tears rolling down his cheek, “yes.”

Poe corrects: “Yes, this filthy faggot understands.”

Ben cries, “Yes, this filthy faggot understands.”

Poe returns Ben’s mouth to his mouth to fuck him. He soon spills into Ben’s mouth and Poe forces Ben to swallow him.

Poe throws him to the ground, choosing to return to his seat and lighting another cigarette.

Several minutes pass, with Poe flicking ash on Ben. Ben does not look up from the floor, “Looks like the faggot’s tiny cock is hard.” Ben breathes hard.

Poe stands, shoving his boot on Ben’s crotch, grinding into his cock and balls, “this is what you get for such shitty head.” Ben screams. Poe spits on him again before releasing his foot from Ben’s genitals.

He turns around to look out the window, “Get out of my fucking place, pussy faggot.”

 

Ben gathers himself, shaky, and closes the door behind him and down the stairs. The train back is silent except for several people who eye him and whisper to each other. 

Ben flushes again. 

Fortunately, none of his roommates are in the kitchen, Ben walks to the freezer, picking out frozen bags of peas and broccoli and proceeds to his room. 

 

Body buzzing, Ben lets out a laugh from the rush.

Sitting on his bed, he places the broccoli on his crotch, looking across to the mirror seeing blood, cum and tear streaked cheeks. One solid and unmistakable boot print on his forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux centric chapter.

Head swimming, smile on the lips. Armitage stumbles the three blocks to his flat. Pushing inside he crossed the threshold with his boots on before stepping back to shake his boots off. Not caring in the slightest on wearing slippers he pads upstairs to his room.

Millicent greets him, swish of her tail and after mandatory pets she slinks off to her night adventuring or staring at ghosts or whatever she likes to do.

Stripping sloppily, he hands back first on his bed. Running his hands over his chest, feeling the expanse flatness with no particular person in mind.

Maybe it's the booze or that it's been too long or, both, and really it seems to be both and tonight Armitage was feeling the heat rise from his loins.

He sighs. Damn, I should've taken at least something from my fun bag from the locker. Four stations down in a sea of lockers lays a black duffle bag with Armitage Hux's name on it with a multitude of goodies inside.

Hux sighs again, hands running in between his legs, remembering.

The vision comes clear to him, one of the last times he's taken the bag out, shouldering it for a night of fun.

The club on the outside didn't look like much. No windows to speak of. The main entrance being a service door to disguise the club itself.

The invitation on his phone said Vanilla to the door which warranted the duffel bag. Rapping his knuckles on the door, it opens to a dude who is at least a foot taller than himself with a scraggly long beard and heavily tattooed.

"Can I see your invitation and ID please?" He says, kindly. Hux fishes both our while shifting the bag as, as usual, the streets are wet and shiny from the rain.

He peruses the phone screen and checks the ID before waving him in, "alright, up the stairs and to the left. Changing room on the right. Have fun."

Hux huffs a thanks and heads up.

The room is full of about thirty people, in one corner stands a Saint Andrews Cross with a gorgeous blonde being teased with end of a whip. Another corner was a rack with someone else on there, cheeks clenching at the swift smacks of their Master. Plenty of people standing, watching, small conversations between small groups. people on leases sitting at their Masters feet, Doms using their Slaves as furniture. Rubber suits, cat suits, leather, people wearing nothing at all. All shapes and colors all doms, switches and subs or people just there to watch and learn. All vetted through a rigorous process: fees, interviews, beginner class and all of it overseen by the Dungeon Master.

Hux heads over to the Dungeon Master and introduces himself, "Hello!"

"Hey, thanks for making it. Thanks again for volunteering to do this, sad that she's got the flu and had to drop out but you're a good dude."

Hux nods, "a pleasure."

Hux eyes the crowd again before spotting a familiar face that makes him walk over, "Oliver!"

They briefly hug, "thanks for the quick reply and short notice!"

Before Hux could reply the Dungeon Master makes an announcement: "Ladies and Gentleman and all in between, ten minutes until 11'clock for our main Demonstration begins. Questions? Come see me."

"Ah, yes, you want to meet the spotters?"  
"Multiple spotters?"  
"Ah, yeah, and another person too" Oliver waves over several people who make their approach.

One is a man of small stature, lithe, long blonde haired, wearing a leather collar "hello, I'm Panther. Nice to meet you. I'll be your spotter tonight." Besides him another man, a leather bear with black chaps and boots to match, "Hi, I'm the spotter in training."

They shake hands, "General Red," Hux replies.

Nearby a woman exclaims, "Oh! The General Red!" Hux locks eyes with a woman a head shorter than him, expressive brown eyes and medium brown hair. "I didn't think you were ginger, I thought you wore a red rubber suit or something."

"Ah, yeah, it's just easier to go by Red or General Red depending on the Scene." He switches his bag to his other shoulder, "Tonight I'm Red with this Scene, " he nods to Oliver.

Oliver smiles, "we're still good?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Red, Yellow, Green still works for you?" Oliver nods.

"Perfect, well, nice to meet you. I'll need to get ready and be back shortly." Hux locks eyes with the woman, "enjoy the show." She smiles, "absolutely."

Hux steps out of the Dungeon across the hall to a wall of cubby storage and several changing rooms. A man walks out in a bright yellow rubber suit, baby powder container in hand. He eyes Hux and nods before leaving Hux alone in the room.

Hux places the duffle bag down, unzips and rifles through it pulling out an Emerald green jock strap. Removing his clothes, shoes and socks and placing them inside the duffel, he quickly puts on the jock strap and shoves the duffle into a cubbie.

Padding out to the Dungeon Room, he weaves his way to the side of the room where there is a small stage. People are winding down and others are pulling out chairs or using subs as chairs.

Hux, now Red, kneels on stage in the middle facing away from the gathering crowd.

 

\--  
\---

Red breaths deep, steadily, hands on knees.

The Dungeon Master commands the room to silence, handing it over to Oliver.

"Welcome, thank you for coming to this Demonstration. I'm Oliver and I've been Rigging for over a decade now. I'll be teaching you safer Rigging practices with our live model here,"

Red, turns around to face the audience, still on his knees, "this is Red."

Roughly forty five pairs of eyes look back at him, many with pads of paper and pens. Red's checks flush slightly.

"Alright, before we even touch the model. What do you think we should do?" Nobody responds to him, he turns to Panther and Panther answers: "Consent and Safety Scissors!"

Oliver turns to Red, pulling out a strong pair of steel scissors that can cut quickly through ropes.

"Yes, consent!" He waves to Red, "you agree to this?"

Red nods.

"Excellent, now, scissors are important because if your Model, Slave, Pup, Sub or what have you needs to end the scene or that they loose feeling then they need to be quickly removed from the Rigging. Always have at least TWO pairs of scissors in case the first one breaks, capiche?"

People scribble in their notepad, Oliver continued cover knots, safety measures pullies, load bearing and how to make load bearing knots pretty.

It's soon after that Oliver places hands on his skin, lifting him up to apply the supple ropes to his body. Rough hands, carpenter hands, lace ropes over and across torso and limbs.

Oliver's voice fades away with his explanations until he is drawn back:

"Feels good? Green?"

Red nods, Yes and Green."

Oliver continues to bind his left arm to his left leg, in a partial suspension high into the air like a ballerina. Adjusting as he goes, turning to the audience who continue to madly scribble down notes.

The ropes sink in, Hux's mind goes blank, just feeling the watchful eyes, how his hands are bound. How he must look to the audience in just a jockstrap and how helpless he is to cover himself.

Red's flush deepens, "fuck."

Oliver turns to him, "Check in, Green?"

Red checks the feeling in his limbs, noticing no pins or needles, "Green," he huffs out, sure that the audience sees his desire naked and examined.

Oliver traces fingers lightly on Red's face, "and, that, folks, is how you make a beautiful man surrender."

Oliver spins Red around slowly about a dozen times, the audience watches.

After that Oliver unbinds and releases Red. Panther hands him a glass of water which he drinks quickly.

"Ready for part two?" Oliver asks.

Red nods.

"Okay folks, this is Advanced Suspension. You can see the basics in practice. I'll need to focus so sit back and enjoy it,"

He pulls out his scissors again motioning for the spotters to do the same, repeating the lesson. Opening and closing them, purely out of good habit but also so that Red can see them, assures him.

He nods to the spotters and soon more hands are on him, tying, twisting, folding intricate knots across his torso and waist.

Double and triple checking all their work, Red is turned sideways, Oliver and the spotters assume their positions. Oliver stands close to Red, looking into his eyes. They're so alive and blue like a summer sky.

"Green?"  
"Green."

Oliver motions to the Riggers which pull on the ropes. Oliver keeps a hand on the back of Red as soon Red is stretched up into the air, legs and arms bound in the air with his back towards the floor and entirely Suspended. The audience stares while Red continues to moan.

Red grunts, "Fuck" Cheeks and chest ruddy red.

There is nothing but surrender, helplessness, pain and blankness. Sharp pain but immense pleasure waves over him.

Red barely registers that he is spinning, choosing to focus on the tightness and total surrender of his own life. Unable to move on his own volition, unable to do anything but accept what he is given.

Red moans loudly, not a care if anybody hears. Soon he is crying, "Green," repeatedly. Choking intensity wracking his bound chest, hips and shoulders, ropes biting in deep. Fuck.

A sweet release of any worry of anything worldly, him and gravity fighting helplessly. He is nothing, a weight of flesh. The entire world can go fuck itself to be spent suspended like this. Time is nothing.

Oliver looms above him, more commanding, "Check in," he looks at the spotters, and back at Red.

Red struggles to focus on Oliver's words as Oliver repeats them, he grunts. The pain and pleasure an all-consuming blankness. Moaning loudly, eyes shut, Red does not answer. Oliver grabs his chin, hard, forcing Red to look at him in the eye, reflecting the intensity that Red feels. Tears run down Red's cheeks, mouth gasping. Body screaming, leaving Red unable to speak which Oliver recognizes and drinks in like a man in the desert, finally quenching his thirst. Total dominion over Red's life, Red feels like he could fall through the sky through Oliver's eyes.

A sharp retort from Panther snaps Oliver out of his own daze. Oliver motions and they quickly spring into action, the spotters lower Red to the ground. Oliver keeps his hands surrounding Red, on his back, enveloping him, until Red touches the ground.

Ligaments pop back into place as he gently lands on the floor, Oliver is large and above him, deftly removing the ropes.

Red, blissed out, looks up at Oliver. Oliver wraps him in a blanket and lifts him bridal style. Red doesn't know where he's going and doesn't particularly care, choosing to focus on the detachment of being on another planet. Not recognizing how clammy and shaky he is.

Soon cold air hits his face, shocking him back. He's on a roof with Oliver in a garden with a canopy so the rain doesn't pour down on them. He pushes a package of cigarettes into his hand. Red struggles to light it but manages to do so, putting one to his lips. Oliver decides to do the same.

They sit silently, Oliver occasionally running a hand across Red's back. Both of them slowly coming down.

They both light up another smoke and then another sometime after that that one smoked down. Red meets Oliver's eyes, "that was great."

"I'm glad."

 

 

Oliver passes over a bottle of water and an energy bar, conveniently placed there along with other things, their negotiated self-care that they agreed upon. Armitage accepts them without comment. Oliver unfurls several more blankets, one for himself and the rest for Hux. 

 

"Hey," Oliver speaks up, "do you know the time?" Hux looks at him, blowing out smoke, "I want to guess it's after midnight." 

"I think you're right. It's a special day then."

Armitage quirks an eyebrow, questioning.

"Two years since our first Session."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Hux doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know Oliver that well other than his intense need to Dom and his preferences. Never seen him undressed or know much beyond that he is a carpenter with his calloused hands. 

"I made something for the occasion," Oliver bends down, withdrawing a small object, pushing it into Armitage's hand. A small piece of wood, highly polished, in the shape of a rope. A hole pierced through it with a wood medallion with an expertly carved name: Oliver.

"I--thank you," Armitage touched, "Sorry, I didn't know or I would have got you something."

"No worries," Oliver says simply.

A moment passes between them, smoking.

Oliver rubs the cigarette between his fingers, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, shoot."

"What's your first name?" 

"Armitage."

"Ah, that's a strong name."

Hux turns to look at him, "I wanted something better than my old name."

A beat passes between them, smoking rising into the night sky.

"Why the name Oliver?" Armitage asks.

"It's the name I chose for myself," Oliver swallows, "my legal first name. I despised my Dead name. It's just easier to go by Oliver."

Armitage blinks, realization sinking in. He thought he was the only one. 

Oliver smiles, "I Transitioned before I got into the community."

"Nobody here knows, do they?" Oliver shakes his head. "I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks."

 

 

They both look across the wet London cityscape until their cigarettes extinguish.


	5. Chapter 5

Ben takes a seat in the waiting room, a sea of maybe sixty men taking up every other seat. The room is uncomfortably hot and the room heavy with energy from all of them preparing for their chance.

 

Ben’s phone rings, a hauty tune that means that Rey is calling him. He presses accept on his phone, “Hey Rey.”

“Whattup? You up for lunch?”

Ben grits his teeth, “I’m at my callback!”

“No way, is this that play?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s the competition looking like?”

Ben looks around him, a good chunk of them wearing monochrome colors, hair long like his, it’s like a room full of copies.

 

“Everyone here looks like how I’d look with a nose job.”

 

Rey laughs, “then I think you will have a chance since you stand out.”

Ben scowls, “hey now, it’s distinctive at least that’s what Emily says. Natural at least.”

“Right. Well, best of luck.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

 

Ben’s anxiety makes his leg shake up and down. The guy on the left, with the major nose, swifts through his phone to another playlist. There is one man on the floor in a lotus position, totally at peace of zen or something. Fucking annoying pretentious bullshit.

 

Not long after a slender woman wearing a modest dress calls into the room, “Kylo Ren?”

 

Ben stands quickly and crosses the room, breaking into a gleaming white smile, “that’s me!”

 

She smiles back at him, “excellent, follow me.”

 

Ben follows down a corridor and around two corners to a room. Crossing through into the room was as bare as one could get: white walls, a single table and three chairs which people sat on. A lonesome video camera on a tripod behind them

 

One of the men holds up a sheet of paper, “Kylo Ren. Pleased to meet you.” Kylo nods, smiling like a beacon on a lighthouse. He is a man of tall stature, dark suit, all business and wearing sharp glasses that screams _I’m an executive and I want everybody to know that._

 

Another man, an old, scraggly, with a graying beard and not all of his buttons are properly buttoned up. A true disheveled mess but he doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about it or just not self aware. He does not speak and looks particularly bored.

 

“When you’re ready, you can begin.” says the man who spoke before. He motions behind him to flick the video camera on. The woman takes a seat in the other chair behind the table. The three of them with notepads and pens at the ready.

 

Kylo Ren clears his throat, eyes bright, removing himself as Ben Solo into the role of the Slayer by launching into the Monologue:

 

**Is anyone man enough to slay the dragon that protects my heart?**

**For my love is locked away in a tower, hidden from the world**

**Kept safe from those who threaten to hurt me with false promises.**

**You lure me with your magical charms into your arms**

**But when I unmask the real you, I see the horrors within.**

**The real monster is not the guardian dragon**

**But the creature that lurks inside you.**

**Only one who is pure and good can unlock my secrets**

**And know the truth about me.**

**Face my dragon if you dare!**

**But if your intentions are less than noble**

**Prepare yourself for a slow and painful death.**

 

Kylo Ren breathes slow, returning back into himself. The small group keeps their rapt attention on them. One man, on the right, drops his pen in front of him and looks to the other man. They both nod.

 

“Kylo Ren, stick around in the waiting room.”

He nods and the lady walks him out into the waiting room, eyes twinkling.

 

The rest of the people in the waiting room go in, one after the other, they leave after their time in the room. Ben sucks his teeth, pacing up and down the waiting room. He grabs a small cup of water from the watercooler. His body tense with energy, he walks into the bathroom, pulling paper towels from the towel dispenser and shoving them into his mouth and screams.

 

His anxiety abides briefly and he does jumping jacks in the bathroom before returning back to the waiting room.

 

Another man walks into the waiting room and takes a seat without leaving. Ben bores holes through the back of his head with his eyes, willing him to drop dead. Fucking cunt.

 

The man taps his knees, legs jigging up and down, ignoring Ben’s murderous gaze.

 

“Kylo Ren?” It’s the same lady and he follows her back into the room. Inside the room he now gets a chair to sit in which he takes.

 

“Take this, you’ll be reading for Sam. The others will speak the other parts.” the executive passes over a new script, a cold read. Ben barely has thirty seconds to look this over before the man snaps his fingers.

 

“Time’s up, let’s go.”

 

Ben digs his fingernails into his palm, holding the script with his over hand.

 

He begins:

  


**SAM**

Easy. Remember what these people are capable of. We are the guardians of the republic, the extractors of state secrets. But we’re still just techs.

 

**(THE DIRECTOR and TERRY enter. THE DIRECTOR, in his late 50s, is a suited man of no small importance.)**

 

**THE DIRECTOR**

What do we have?

 

**SAM**

**_(Stiffens slightly upon the entrance of THE DIRECTOR, clears throat, yet remains professional.)_ **

This interview subject is charged with violations of sections nine and forty-six sub five of the Patriot Act, with a repeat on section 506, sub a, two, big C, three small I’s, attempting to illegally enter and remain in the territorial United States with unlicensed and uninspected consumer products.

 

**THE DIRECTOR**

Show him no mercy. **_(Pause)_ ** Who’s that in there with him, gesticulating and telling our tech what to do?

 

**SAM**

He asked for representation, sir. It’s his right under the Act, sir. THE DIRECTOR Will this coddling of common thugs never cease?

 

**SAM**

Yes sir. I think the pocket square is a bit over the top myself, sir.

 

**THE DIRECTOR**

Yes – well, let’s get him in here.

**TERRY**

Yes sir.

**_(Exits)_ **

 

**THE DIRECTOR**

Every agency head should have a staff of trained mutts. Ours are called U.S. Marshals. **_(He has a private laugh while SAM and MARISSA remain stone silent.)_ ** Ms. Myers – is this your first detention interview?

 

**MARISSA**

Yes … sir.

 

**THE DIRECTOR**

Then I will debrief you personally in my office. At fourthirty. **_(He exits)_ **

 

**MARISSA**

He’s rather direct, isn’t he?

 

**SAM**

That’s why he was named bureaucrat of the year. He doesn’t have a thought in his head that doesn’t involve the orderly preservation of our republic.

 

**MARISSA**

He even beat the guy from the I.R.S.?

 

**SAM**

Yes.

 

**MARISSA**

Wow – that’s impressive.  

 

**SAM**

It’s not about impressing people so much as it is about blind adherence to laws, rules, regulation, memos, circulars, non-codified directives, executive orders, and proposed regulations still subject to the thirty-day public comment period but which for all intents and purposes already carry the weight of settled law **_(takes a breath)_ ** etcetera. **_(Into microphone)_ ** Is he hooked up? Good.

 

**MARISSA**

Where did The Director go?

 

**SAM**

I don’t know.

 

**MARISSA**

SAM?

 

**SAM**

Yes?

 

**MARISSA**

Are we sure all this really necessary?

 

**SAM**

Is all what really necessary?

 

**MARISSA**

I mean, the elaborate setup, the polygraph … Wasn’t this suspect already detained here and he just needs to be extradited back? Haven’t we been through the legality on this? I mean … he’s guilty, right?

 

**SAM**

Maybe you’re not clear about what we do here.  

 

**MARISSA**

But …

 

**SAM**

Maybe we should hook you up to the polygraph. MARISSA No – that’s not what I mean.

 

**SAM**

Look, Marissa – we’re not a jury. We’re techs. We make sure the system runs properly and fix it when it doesn’t. We’re bureaucrats. You like it, you don’t like it – there’s a form for it. Make copies. **_(He smiles thinly, as THE DIRECTOR enters.)_ **

 

**MARISSA**

Why the vocal distortion?

 

**SAM**

As per agency directive. At the interrogation interview, voices are manipulated to prevent empathy and identification.

 

\--

  


Kylo Ren, breathes. The others look up from the script. The old man smiles. They all huddle around each other, whispering.

 

He bends the script backwards and forwards, brows tense. After a moment, their huddle discussion parts and they return to their seats.

 

The disheveled man stretches his arms, “good work, I think that you’re exactly what we need.”

 

The lady leans in, “Congratulations, you’ve got the part.”

Ben Solo laughs, happier than he’s been in years: “Thank you.”

The executive signs a sheet of paper, “this is confirmation by us that you’ll be offered the Male Lead,” he passes the paper over, we’ll set up a meeting with you and your agent to finalize the details and contract.” Ben nods.

 

The old man yawns, “good n great n bloody hell, I’m starving,” the man pushes his chair from him and standing up to leave the room.

 

Ben merely laughs at that and they all stand up, shaking Ben’s hand. Ben leaves the waiting room and shoves on the doors hard. Throwing himself into a slight drizzle from the sky.

 

He dials on his phone, Emily picks up on the first ring.

“Okay honey, how did it go?”

“I GOT THE **_FUCKING_ ** PART!”

Emily screams, “NO SHIT CONGRATULATIONS! Which part?”

Ben yells, “Male **_FUCKING_ ** Lead.”

“I had FULL confidence in you. This is big, very big. The playwright is one of the best in England,” she says.

Ben blinks, overcome with emotion. “I just can’t believe this. It doesn’t feel real.”

Emily’s voice exuberates joy, “I know, but it will feel more real when we’re at the table negotiating the contract. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of celebrating to do. I’ll be pouring one out for you as well.”

Ben can’t stop smiling, “yeah, that’s true. They’ll get into contact with you.” Ben fist pumps, jumping and dancing down the street, getting Rey on the phone and off to the pub.

  
  
  


A/N:

 

Script from: NOT FOR COFFEE: [ http://www.simplyscripts.com/scripts/NOTFORCOFFEE.pdf ](http://www.simplyscripts.com/scripts/NOTFORCOFFEE.pdf)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Script from: NOT FOR COFFEE: http://www.simplyscripts.com/scripts/NOTFORCOFFEE.pdf


	6. Chapter 6

Armitage checks his email, seeing an email from the Club asking if he wishes to renew his yearly subscription which he does. He hasn’t been back since the handful of times he’s went after Oliver disappeared to see if he was still there. I’ll need to go back there again at some point. He makes a promise to go there within the next month.  
Rolling out of bed, head pounding and seeing the glass of water next to his bed he gulps down.   
Shuffling down the stairs in his pajamas, he strolls into the kitchen to see Richard.  
“Mornin’”  
“You want me to put the kettle on?”  
“Yeah.”  
Armitage opens the fridge, definitely not hungry though, he closes the fridge.   
The kettle whistles and he shoves some black tea in the pot and pours it in. He takes out a cup and sets it onto the counter and waits as the tea steeps.   
“Whatcha doing tomorrow night?”  
Armitage pulls out his phone, flicking to the date which is empty, “nothing, why?”  
“It’s the opening night of my play. You can be my +1.”  
Armitage nods, “sure, I’ve seen you worked on that thing for months so it’ll be cool to see it in action.”  
“I figured you’d be free. You don’t seem to go out much,” Richard observes.   
Armitage huffs, taking a drink from his tea. Bastard.  
“It starts at 7PM but let’s just go together so be ready by 6:15, it’ll be cheaper.”  
Armitage eyes him. I knew he was a cheapskate but I didn’t know he was that bad.  
Richard mutters quickly, “I hate being in the fancy car by myself”.  
He raises an eyebrow, “Ah, I see,” A pause: “Where is it?”  
“It’s at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.”  
Armitage chokes on his tea in surprise.  
Richard crosses his arms across his chest, “what?”  
“No, no, I just. I’ve never been,” he stutters.   
“To that theatre or any theatre?”   
“Any theatre or play. Just movies.”   
Richard smiles, “It’ll be a real treat then. You might be ruined from such a good play. Although, that’s up to the actors but I have a lot of trust in the actors.”  
Armitage merely huffs, returning to his tea, “thanks for the invitation.”

 

\----

Opening on Saturday makes Ben alive. Long days in and out with his head around the script, in the character, working with brilliant minds has left him in excellent spirits. Day in and day out, intense eating schedule and hours of all body exercises and weightlifting. Costume fitting and alterations by a no-bullshit old woman, makeup tests, promotion videos and photoshoots done. 

This is all outside of running to the theatre from the mile from his stop. Of course, he could take the closer stop but it’s just extra time to put in some more exercise. Always the first to arrive and the last one to leave, Ben lives and breathes this play. Moving his body and breathing through the best storytelling. 

“Alright, let’s run through scene four again,” the stage director yells from the front house. They’ve memorized the script and go through the lines, smoothly and without issues. The director stops occasionally to provide direction in movement and placement. Ben sits to the side, it’s the only scene in the whole play where he is not in it.   
Hours pass, with the stage director nodding throughout. There is much less direction than last week.   
“Alright folks, let’s all huddle up,” he gets onto the stage and faces the cast, “Reminder that people need to arrive at four o’clock. You’ve got this.”   
They break and all filter out. Ben places a pair of earbuds into his ear and walks to the bus stop, turns his phone on, seeing several text messages.

Bitchin’ Rey: Looking forward to tomorrow! Pressing my dress now.  
Shithead: sry cant make it good luck  
Ben sighs, of fucking course. The biggest thing happening to me and fuckface can’t bother. He doesn’t bother responding to it. He flips to the next message.  
Mum: Is there a chance to catch a later show? I can’t make it, wish I could tell you more but you know why.  
Ben shakes his head, texting her back, “I understand. Be safe.” It’s understandable, dangerous work in an unstable region.

 

\----

What do I wear to a show at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre? Pounding downstairs, blazer, black jeans, polo shirt, it’ll be good enough I hope.   
Richard nods, for the first time in a properly buttoned polo and jacket. He looked like a new person clean shaven and hair combed, like, a member of society instead of a bum who never leaves the house or to the pub.  
Richard opens the door to a black sleek limo and an open door which he quickly jumps in, Armitage follows.   
Richard makes his way to the cool fridge, pulling out the champagne and popping it, “I don’t usually share this but I’m feeling charitable this week,” he passes a flute of it and the taste of it was more magnificent than what Armitage has had in his life.   
The trip was uneventful but the ending of it was something out of the Oscars: red carpet, flashing bulbs of photographers, people dressed to the nines. Richard exits the limo first to cheers from people and screeching questions, the paparazzi trying to gather answers about the play.   
Armitage gets out as well but there is no fanfare or cameras on him, choosing to slip behind the crowd and wait inside the theatre.  
A stodgy man, late 40s asks: “Sir, may I see your ticket?” Hux turns around and points, “I’m with Richard.” The man nods and sees Richard heading towards the theatre.   
The theatre is more extravagant than the buildings downtown where he works in. Reams of silk and velvet from ten stories up fall to the ground in pools. It takes a lot for a Brit to be enamored by a building and for Armitage Hux, it was definitely the case for him. Probably costs a billion dollars to maintain this, indeed.  
Instead of them beelining towards the front row boxed seats, Richard makes his way to the back house where the actors are. Richard waves over Armitage, “come, meet the crew and see what behind the scenes looks like!”   
They make their way back to see a bunch of actors in a variety of costumes, buzzing with energy. Very pretty people, Hux muses.  
“Oh! It’s Richard,” one of them exclaims, excitedly breaking from the crowd to shake his hand, “thank you for writing this brilliant play and for the opportunity to be in it!”  
“You’re welcome,” Richard gruffs out.   
The actresses and actors crowd him, giving their praise and talking about their favorite parts of the play. They completely ignore Armitage which he is okay with.  
There was one person hanging away from the group with dark hair, quiet and leaning against the wall.   
You know that cheesy ‘take your breath away’ garbage that bad romcoms like to throw at you for? For me, it was more like a slight halo around this mysterious man. Perhaps the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.   
As if knowing, the tall dark-haired mysterious man looks up, seeing Richard and the crew surrounding them and finally clapping eyes on Armitage to the side. He blinks several times, slowly and holding his gaze before he looks away. Stunning.  
A hand clasps his shoulder, “let’s get to our seats,” Richard says. Armitage takes one last look at this man who mayhaps be looking at him from the side, not positive, before being stirred away to the front of the house.  
Settling into cushioned seats, not even five minutes pass before the bell rings for people to shush and quiet their phones. An orchestra begins to play. This is a big fucking deal. Whatever quips and doubts Armitage Hux had about this bumbling alcoholic fool who is up all hours of the night, sitting in a stained robe is waived away with the reality of this: he wasn’t lying.   
I don’t know shit about plays. I don’t know if it’s a good play compared to others but clapping when others clapped was something I can emulate.   
Occasionally Richard slaps his knee, a large grin on his face throughout the production.  
The mysterious man was on stage in every scene, more so than any of the other actors and actresses. Richard nods at points of his dramatic scenes and displays of emotion.   
Two and a half hours later, the play ended with much applause and people standing up.  
The actors and actresses lineup and bow to the crowd before leaving to return to the back of the house. The names escape him but the one he wanted was the mysterious man: Kylo Ren.  
“Come, Armie, let’s give them a send-off,” Richard doesn’t need to drag him to the back of the house.  
Several actresses crowd him. Armitage doesn’t see Kylo Ren.  
It was in that moment, Armitage Hux decided to say fuck it and weaves around the crowd to find Kylo Ren.  
A simple red door with the crest “Kylo Ren” emblazoned on the middle of the door is perhaps the best bet to where he could be.  
You got this. You got this. Armitage looks into the reflection of his phone to check to see if any hair is out of place. There isn’t.  
Clammy hand knocks on the door, which Kylo rumbles in a deep rich voice, “come in.”  
“Hi, um. Would it be wrong if I asked for your number?”   
Kylo Ren pauses from brushing his hair back, looking towards him, “I don’t usually give my number to strangers.”  
“Oh, well. I’m Armitage Hux,” he stretches out a clammy hand. Kylo takes it.  
“What a funny name.”  
“Heh, I get that a lot,” he replies.  
They share a perhaps longer than necessary gaze. The most beautiful dark brown eyes like depths into darkness.  
Kylo breaks away first, smiling shyly--SHYLY! After such a performance!? “well, you’re not a stranger anymore, Armitage Hux,” he emphasized, “where’s your phone? I can enter it in. Don’t want anybody to overhear ya know?”  
Armitage fumbles to take out his phone, unlocking it and opening a new contact before passing it over to Kylo. He presses the number in before handing it back. Armitage texts to the number, noting a different name than Kylo Ren on there. Ben Solo’s phone dings.  
“Yeah, Kylo is my stage name and not a lot of people know my legal name,” Kylo clarifies.  
Armitage nods, “I’ll text you tomorrow then,” Ben nods.  
The door opens which makes the both of them jump to Richard storming in. Kylo rises from his chair.  
“Ah, Kylo Ren! Just the kind of performance that I imagined that Sam would play,” he reaches out a hand which Kylo takes.  
“Thank you, sir.”  
“I suspect you’ve got lots of interviews ahead of you out front. Not much time for me left here, can’t stand the crowds. I’ll be exiting through the back and I’ve forgotten my way, would you do me the favor of showing me the way?”  
Kylo nods, moving towards the door and leading them to the back exit.  
Kylo opens the door to another dark night but surprisingly no rain, holding the door open. Richard mutters his thanks.  
Armitage Hux and Ben Solo exchange one last look before crossing the threshold which Ben breaks away looking down.  
Definitely shy.  
Down the street is a car taking him back to the flat, Richard doesn’t speak much choosing to look out the window.   
The rest of the night passes uneventfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the fateful meeting! Thank you for the support! <3


	7. Chapter 7

Armitage wakes up to texts from Ben Solo:  
“I can’t think of anything interesting to say, but I really want to talk to you.”  
And another one:  
“I’m free Monday. What about you?”  
Hux replies, “Yeah, 6PM. Liquid Revolution downtown?”  
There’s an extra bounce in his step when he enters the office on Monday, Phasma looks up, noticing.  
“You got lucky?”  
He shakes his head, “hah, no.”  
Phasma rests her chin on her hands with her arms propped up on the desk in front of her overflowing with case paperwork that is typical for Lawyers, very interested.  
“You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?”  
Phasma nods, “you are the type to just bury themselves in paperwork instead of having an actual life. Who’s the lucky person?”  
Hux blushes, “it’s nothing serious, just coffee later.”  
“Uh huh, coffee,” she emphasizes.  
“Not like that! Just, like, regular coffee. This isn't a hookup thing from those stupid apps.”  
Phasma repeats herself, adding: “you’re the type of person that I’m surprised people aren’t throwing themselves at you.” Hux blinks.  
“You’re definitely not my type, mind you. I’m as gay as it comes that my pants are full of rainbows.”  
Hux smiles at the validation of passing, “that’s good.” He’s passed for years but it perks him up more hearing it.  
Phasma smiles, “best of luck to you and your mysterious ‘just coffee’ date”.  
Armitage refuses the bait, settling down to his own desk and resumes his work.

5:50 PM, Armitage arrives in sight of the coffee shop to see Ben leaning against the brick next to the coffee shop with earbuds in, people watching. Hux takes a minute to appreciate Ben from the distance. Perhaps I’m overdressed compared to Ben’s simple black sweatshirt and black pants. Oh well! It is what it is!  
Hux strides over and Ben pulls his earbuds out, “hey,”  
“Hi,” Ben opens the door of the coffee shop and ushers Armitage inside.  
Inside is filled with Edison bulbs giving a homely warm feel across simple brown panels gracing the walls. Local artists hung their works on the walls, the walls without art are covered in fairy white small lights. There were several couples on one side of the room, indiscernible conversations between them. 

A heavily tattooed man with a multicolored mohawk greets them, “Hiya, what will you be having?”  
“Can I have a tall water with lemon please?” He nods, “and you?” Armitage answers, “pot of black tea, thanks.” They pay and meander over to a set up red cushioned chairs and a simple black table.  
“I almost missed this place,” says Ben.  
“Yeah, it’s easy to miss since it doesn’t stand out compared to the other shops, it’s why I like it.”  
“Oh?”  
“I like some quiet after a busy day,”  
“And what would that look like?”  
“Heavy casework, a court date, things like that.”  
Ben blinks, not quite comprehending.  
“I’m a Lawyer,” Armitage explains.  
Ben nods before being interrupted by the barista bringing their drinks.  
“Well, you already know what I do,” Ben adds, “tell me more about your cases, do you deal with murders?”  
“Haha, no, nothing like that,” he takes a sip of the hot tea. Definitely too hot.  
He sets the cup down, “I’m part of the Queen’s Council, .”  
“Wait, I think I know this council, you wear the funny wigs, don’t you?”  
“Yes, I do. And the silk. Cold in the winter, unfortunately, considering the strict dress code.”  
“I can imagine.”  
“Tell me stories of the work that you do,” Ben props his arms on the table, head on hands.”  
He’s adorable.  
Armitage launches in tales of the history of the Queen’s Council, the controversies from the 1600’s and the kind of modern work that he does. How he helped with legal reforms of police procedures and his work with obscenity laws to overturn the last obscene publications act of 1959 that discriminated against LGBTQA people.  
Ben listens intently, nodding occasionally and grinning at the exciting parts.  
Armitage’s tea goes cold as he has forgotten about it from telling fantastical stories about law and how he shaped and changed this and that. Armitage decides to break and gulp the cold drink down.  
“You’re fucking amazing.”  
Hux blushes.  
“You’re so fucking passionate. I love it,” Ben says.  
“I--um, thanks.”  
“I usually I hate people and their fakeness. You’re the exception. You’re so fucking down to earth.”  
Armitage blushes redder, pouring himself the rest of the tea.  
“Reminds me of myself on stage. See, I don’t think I had the choice. I am so drawn to the stage like, a moth to lights, I have some workaholic tendencies.”  
“Yeah?”  
Ben smiles, “yeah, I love storytelling especially when it comes to using my body to tell them. It’s a lot of work though, not just the practice and on stage work. Intense workouts, strict diet, maintenance and the unfortunate instability of the work.” Ben looks down at the ice left in his cup, “my other job is being a waiter to make ends meet.”  
Armitage nods, “I don’t care. You do what you must to follow your dreams, it’s noble and inspiring to hear your sacrifices. Reminds me of yourself.”  
Ben looks up, “good fucking shit, I was gonna get up and leave if you gave any other answer!”  
Hux laughs, “well, I’m glad you didn’t!” Hux drains the last of this tea.  
“I bet you have sacrificed a lot to get where you are.”  
“Yeah, um. Relationships. I’m super rusty at this kind of thing,” it’s Hux’s turn to look down, shyly.  
Ben smiles big but doesn’t reply when his phone dings. “Shit,” he frowns.  
“Hm?”  
“Forgot I had a shift tonight, I need to leave right now if I’m gonna make it there in town.”  
Armitage stands up, “let’s get out of here then.”  
They both gather their things and leave the shop. Ben shoves the earbuds in his ears and Hux turns to go but Ben grabs his wrist, pulling Armitage to him.  
“I like this, text me tomorrow.”  
“Same,” Armitage breaths, feeling how close they are.  
Ben releases him, turning and running down the street. Hux follows him with his eyes.

\----

Armitage wakes up to more texts from Ben:  
“Have you thought about what it would be like if we kissed? Because I have. Couldn’t get it out of the head. Regretted I couldn’t, didn’t want to miss the bus.”  
Hux replies:  
“Yes, and it’s okay. Next time.”  
“Yeah, I feel the same about next time.”  
Armitage shifts in bed and pets Millicent who decided that she needed to headbutt his face.  
“Friday? 10 PM. There’s a pub I want to show you. My friend Rey showed me it. Kind of a cast party thing if you’re interested.”  
“Sure, time with you is good. Shame I have to share you.”  
It takes a minute before Ben replies, maybe he’s smiling?  
“Excellent. Here’s the address,” Hux has no idea what this place is but types it into his calendar.

\----

The day and time arrive and despite being turned around several times Hux manages to cross the threshold of the pub. It’s a dark pub, black walls, and low lights. A dance floor on one side of the room. Is this a pub or a club? There’s a big group in the corner doing karaoke. Kylo Ren waves from the edge of the crowd. Armitage waves back, placing his coat on the rack supplied next to the door.  
Kylo grabs the hand of a slim slip of a woman and walks over to Armitage.  
“I want you to meet Rey,” Ben gestures at her.  
It was in that moment that Armitage flashes back to him as Red in the fetish club, right before he was to be almost naked in a partial suspension demonstration for a large crowd of people.  
Rey blinks and smiles, “Hello, you’re the charming man that Ben has told me so much about,” they clasp hands, “and so much Red.” She definitely remembers him.  
Ben laughs,”yeah, guilty. I have a thing for redheads. Let’s get some fucking drinks!”  
He heads off to the bar and orders a round of shots. Oh boy, it’s gonna be one of those nights.  
Rey turns to him, “the rule: what happens stays there. I remember. Don’t worry.” Armitage sighs relief, “thanks.”  
Ren returns with the waitress who holds a platter--or whatever they call it--he’ll have to ask Ben later what they are which are full of shots.  
Kylo hands over two shots to Armitage, “we gotta get this shit fucking started right!”  
“Hell yeah!” The crowd cheers in the corner and the group of three joins them. They all down the shots and return to karaoke. The music is too loud but at least the lights are dim. George and Rey both try to convince Kylo to sing, “fuck no you bastards, what about Ginny over there? She hasn’t had a turn on the mic yet,” Kylo deflects. Two pints and another shot in, the group gets louder and more drunken. The group goads Hux to sing as well, he flips through the book, discovering the song he wants to sing.  
Just enough drunk or not, Armitage gets up, swaying a little at the beginning of the song plays:

 

Let's get down to business, to defeat the Huns  
Did they send me daughters, when I asked for sons?  
You're the saddest bunch I ever met  
But you can bet before we're through  
Mister, I'll make a man out of you  
Tranquil as a forest but on fire within  
Once you find your center, you are sure to win  
You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot  
And you haven't got a clue  
Somehow I'll make a man out of you  
I'm never gonna catch my breath  
Say goodbye to those who knew me  
Boy, was I a fool in school for cutting gym  
This guy's got 'em scared to death  
Hope he doesn't see right through me  
Now I really wish that I knew how to swim  
Be a man  
We must be swift as the coursing river  
Be a man  
With all the force of a great typhoon  
Be a man  
With all the strength of a raging fire  
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon  
Time is racing toward us till the Huns arrive  
Heed my every order and you might survive  
You're unsuited for the rage of war  
So pack up, go home, you're through  
How could I make a man out of you?  
Be a man  
We must be swift as the coursing river  
Be a man  
With all the force of a great typhoon  
Be a man  
With all the strength of a raging fire  
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon  
Be a man  
We must be swift as the coursing river  
Be a man  
With all the force of a great typhoon  
Be a man  
With all the strength of a raging fire  
Mysterious as the dark side of the moon

The group stands in ovation, “fucking beautiful man,” one chimes. “I think I found Jesus,” says another. They settle back into their seats, passing the mic around as freely as the shots they give until none left. Armitage tries to slow down his drinking covertly to not get as plastered as them but it’s hard. Some of the group leaves as the night extends. Some of them scatter onto the dancefloor as music blares through speakers.  
Rey stands up, “I’m getting tired! I’m gonna head out, have fun!” she claps a shoulder onto Kylo before leaving and Kylo claps her shoulder back.  
“Kylo! We should get more shots!” George recommends, Kylo grins mischievously eying Armitage, “indeed, let’s get more.”  
They return with the waitress with more shots with a special red one in the middle of it.  
“And here’s this one for you, sir,” she hands the shot glass from the middle of the bunch and winks at Kylo.  
“Babe, stand up,” Kylo grabs Armitage’s wrist and pulls him to his feet and presses him against the wall nearby.  
“Hold onto this,” Ren places the shot between Armitage’s legs. Oh---Ohhhh.  
Kylo Ren falls to his knees in front of him, looking up at Armitage with a look that reminds him of the subs he’s seen in the club. 

Kylo blinks and breaks out into a wicked grin and grabs Hux’s shoes. His head moves upwards to wrap his lips around the shot glass tucked firmly between his legs and tips the glass’s contents into his mouth. Fuck. How did I get so lucky to get someone like this on his knees? Armitage bites his lip.  
In a fit of strength, Kylo Ren climbs up Armitage. Hux grips on the back of the wall adjusting to the weight of Kylo climbing him like a tree. Once they are level, Kylo brings Armitage into a kiss.  
He kisses back fiercely, weaving his right hand into Kylo’s hair. Ren opens his mouth and gives Armitage a portion of the blowjob shot into Hux’s surprised mouth. Hux tugs slightly on his hair and elicits a whorish moan that glazes Kylo’s eyes over.  
Husky, “you’re so fucking beautiful like this. I can show you much more,” Hux bites his lip.  
“Let’s get the fuck outta here.”  
He sways on his feet but manages to keep his shit together to call a cab and give his address. The cab rolls off into another dark and pouring cold night of rain. The driver wisely pushes the button to seal himself off from Hux and Ben.  
Now alone with just him and Ben, Hux turns his attention to Ben. A hand reaches for his crotch but Hux wraps his hand around him before he can really touch anything and slides it up under his shirt, “like this.” He nods. Hux pulls Ben into another kiss which he deepens. Two hands in his long hair now, tugging now and again to make more moans slide out of the man. Their legs tangled together, Ben moving his hips against his leg for some much-needed relief. In the car, it’s cramped and awkward with their sizes but thankfully the car stops in front of Armitage’s house.  
Armitage throws pounds at the driver before taking the man into the flat. The flat is dark, without the usual lamp in the back on that would signal that Richard was home. Thank fuck.  
“Stop,” Hux says, “take off your shoes or Richard will kill me.” They both struggle taking off their shoes and climbing the stairs to the bedroom.  
Millicent swishes her tail and bolts out of the room when they cross the threshold, too busy trying to suck the souls out of each other, Armitage reaches for Ben’s shirt to remove it. Finally, after some tugs, Hux’s shirt flies off to land on a lamp. Hux pushes Ben into the bed and climbs on top of him to continue their ministrations.  
His hands slide down to grip his ass which makes Armitage moan with freely and without restraint. 

“I--uh--” Ben blushes.  
Hux, boldly, “I think it’s good to return the blowjob favor, you think?”  
He moans, biting his lip and reaches down to his pants to undo his buttons. Hux helps slide them off him. The expanse of long legs, the beautiful body beneath him, has Hux stop for a second to admire Ben’s hard work. He looks up at him, reaching above his head to grab onto the headboard, stretching his chest even more, “you like what you see then?”  
He traces his calves legs and growls, “all of you is, especially beneath me.” Hux traces his fingers down to the tops of his feet before sliding back up his calves and around to the back of his kneecaps. Light touches on his thighs, Ben moans and grabs the headboard. He scoots down to lick his thighs. Little and hard kisses, threatless bites up his legs.  
Ben bucks his hips up, demanding relief. He’s hard and dripping but there’s plenty of time. He grins, sliding up towards the beginning of his underwear until skipping it all to focus on the lower belly of Ben. He huffs in frustration and he’s met with another threatless light bite which makes his stomach tighten slightly. One long lick up the stomach, Hux settles on top of him to give attention above. Dark nipples protrude proudly and he traces one with a tongue. Pinching the other with a hand, Ben bites his lip, “fuck.”  
“Indeed,” he focuses on the nipple more until Ben is shaking beneath him. He switches to the other one. Ben ruts up, seeking some relief and shoving his hands into Hux’s hair to try and move him lower.  
He gets up on his knees and grabs his wrists sharply and pinning them above his head, “no, stay like this,” Hux growls, a flash of General Red’s stern voice.  
Ben melts in the command, “yes Sir.”  
He rakes his hands down from his wrists and slides his hands back into Ben’s hair to take control of his mouth. Satisfied, he crawls down his chest, lightly scratching down as he goes. Ben lifts his hips off the bed, moaning.  
“Please...” He gasps.  
Hux looks up at his bruised begging lips, flushed face and ink black hair cascading around him, “you look good when you’re begging.” Before he could get a response back, he gets up to his knees and roughly pulls of Ben’s underwear.  
Coated thickly with precum, Ben’s cock stands hard against his stomach. Blue balled, even in the darkness, Hux can’t help but let out a moan.  
He lays back down and resumes his tongue worshipping on his long legs.  
Reaching up to his hip bones, he circles each with his fingers and tongue, worshiping the corner of the shrine of Ben Solo.  
“Please…”  
“Yes? What do you want?” Hux flicking up a wicked smile at him.  
He huffs in frustration, “please, please,” chanting.  
Hux repeats himself.  
Ben groans loudly and rolls his head back, bucking his hips up at his face, “please, suck my cock, please.”  
“Look at me,” he commands. Ben looks down at Hux between his legs.  
Locking eyes with him, he licks one long strip up the under shaft of Ben before places the tip of his tongue around the tip of his cock. Swirling it several times, Ben bites his lips, chest rising and falling in rapidly.  
Hux takes his full cock and drives it down his throat in one long beautiful motion. Ben’s eyes roll into the back of his head and thrashes side to side as he licks up and down the shaft. Paying attention to the head, he wraps his fingers around the shaft and base swirling it. Ben grips the headboard tighter, muscles contracting hard. Hux removes his lips from his cock and dips below to taste his sack and pump his dick. He throws his head into his arm, crying out pleasure and shaking. Armitage returns to his dick, shoving himself all the way down and hollows his cheeks to suck everything out of Ben.  
It doesn’t take long at all.  
He cums with a shout, covering Hux with his seed all over his face. He massages his legs as Ben comes down and sinks deeper into the mattress. Grabbing part of the duvet, Hux wipes his face off and ushers Ben under the blankets.  
The man blinks back bleary eyes, reaching down to Hux’s pants before he can stop him. Hands still on his.  
“Don’t worry about it,” Ben blinks into confusion and Armitage pulls him into a hug onto his chest and places a kiss on top of his head. A few minutes pass and Hux adds, “thank you for sharing this with me,” he sighs and cards through his long hair.  
Another minute passes and he can feel wetness on his chest. Armitage pulls back slightly, questioningly. Big drops of tears fall into his chest which he wipes away from Ben’s cheeks.  
“I-I’m sorry, I just,” he struggles to say the words and Armitage is patient, “people don’t do this. They just,” Ben doesn’t say anymore.  
He cups his cheek, “what do you need?”  
Ben lowers himself to his chest just below his chin, “just hold me like this,” he sighs. He presses his chin hard on the top of his head, wrapping his arms tightly around him before drifting off into the nothingness of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author insert: the multicolored mohawk Transman but with required nonconsensual tattoos. 
> 
> Also, this might be the fluffiest soft Kylux chapter I've ever written.


	8. Chapter 8

And so, I woke up the next morning, hungover and not realizing that it was the day that would change my life --- forever. The pounding headache behinds his eyes reminds him of bits and pieces of all what happened last night. I don’t even fucking want to move.

A movement besides him made his eyes snap open Ben stretches, getting up from the bed to look out the window and scritches Millicent under the chin. Naked as the day he was born, and giving zero shits as he pads into the bathroom to take a shower.

The sound of the shower makes Armitage sit up. Somehow still wearing his pants, he fishes for a clean long sleeved shirt.

Ben returns with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Hux rubs his eyes, “please tell me that you know what happened last night.”

Ben dries his hair with the towel from around his waist, “lots of drinking, I gave you a blowjob shot. We danced. You brought me here. It was dark. You stripped me and  gave me the best BJ I’ve ever had in my life. Anything else?”

Armitage shakes his head, “I don’t do this usually do this.” Ben points a finger at him, “you say that and yet your mouth last night said differently.”

He blushes, “I meant this casual stuff...I just. What do we mean? What does this mean for us?”

“It’s all good, it’s all fluid, we’ll take it day by day, no need to create some drama.”

Armitage nods, “okay.”

Ben picks his clothes off the floor and puts them on, “also,” he pauses trying to find the words, “there’s just something about you.”

Hux crosses the room and and takes Ben into his arms. For a moment he holds him, Ben looking confused at first before relaxing into his touch.

“I feel the same way about you too.”

“Yeah, and I want more of that mouth on me too,” he grins.

Armitage obliges, kissing him, a gentle kiss this time and completely different than last night.

Ben ends the kiss and the embrace, “I should get going though. Last night was great. I--” Ben looks left and right, again struggling with the words, “I’m not great at this but I’ll try.”

He nods, “downstairs is this way.”

They go downstairs. Surprisingly Richard isn't in the back typing away.

Ben turns, “I’ll text you later,” then he is out the door. Hux shuffles to the tea kettle put it on. There’s a note on the fridge:

 

Armie,

Out for the next two weeks doing some publicity tour shite.

 

Ah. That’s why I didn’t see Richard at the computer like always.

 

\---

 

Monday afternoon, Armitage texts Ben:

“It’s hard to concentrate when you keep popping into my head.”

Ben replies:

“same what’re you doing tomorrow night?”

“Nothing.”

“cool. I’m doing this thing with my friends for charity --- a one-night performance thing. come.”

“When and where?”

Ben passes the details and a free ticket to it.

 

\----

 

Unusually, Armitage was running late thanks to a bus break down. “Late” as in just in time to sit down before the show begins. The theatre is significantly smaller, able to fit an audience of maybe fifty. The kind of place with a skeleton crew compared to the large orchestra of the other place. No silk or velvet lined the place, the green chairs worn and could use new upholstering. The stage is small, two small steps up from the audience.

When he sits down, overhearing two women next to him, “I’m glad I got tickets to this, I knew they were rare especially when I heard Kylo Ren is in this tonight.” “Really? Who’s he?”

She sighed, “the most dashing man from that commercial of the play going on at the Shakespeare Theatre. Too expensive for me of course. Didn’t I send you the commercial on youtube?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Here,” they huddle together and she pulls up the youtube video and watches it.

He couldn’t see the commercial anyways but not particularly interested in it. He doesn’t see me in court and would not be allowed to---some of these things are best left to themselves unless offered.

The house darkens and Kylo Ren steps out:

“Welcome to this one night show. I’m Kylo Ren. For this show tonight all proceeds will be going to the Arts in the Armed Forces, a charity that focuses on giving opportunities for people in the military to experience theatre and use shared experiences to bridge the gap between the military and civilian life. Thank you for your donations and enjoy the show!”

Several people get on stage and perform short acts.

A variety of performances from short one minute monologues to a ten minute four actress rock opera dedicated to satan passed before Kylo Ren took the stage:

**Ran his debit card for purchase**  
**Flaming haired young thing**  
**tats on the side of his face**  
**and spikes up and down his ears**  
**Ran his debit card for the purchase**  
**His books: Ditta Von Teese**  
**and the newest young adult Twilight schlock**  
**I’m unfazed, how Portland ubiquitous**  
**Ran his debit card for** purchase  
**Thin waif, seemed tall but must have been the pants,**  
**pale against his black tank top**  
**Ran his debit card for** purchase  
**Pretty tough but pretty and the look seemed to fit his**  
**and he was comfortable in it― Some aren’t**  
**The confidence might be what made him… well…**  
**“Please enter your PIN”**  
**(Not your PIN number―that would be Personal Identification Number-Number BTW)**  
**He leans over the counter now close, into** my **… area**  
**Holding the pad (not many do)**  
**Mentions (like many do) that the keypad was unusually loud**  
**(It does have an annoying little “** beep **!”)**  
**There’s reason for that:**  
**And I give him my patent** one liner **:**  
**“Yeah, but during Christmas in here?**  
**You can’t even hear it.”**  
**He looks at me quizzically, lets that sink in,**  
**I smile, he coyly volleys a smile back:**  
**And. There. They. Were.**  
**Full reveal, there they were:**  
**Fangs**  
**He had Fangs**  
**Pearly white and brilliant**  
**He had Fangs**  
**Made his entire mouth gleam red and full**  
**He had Fangs**  
**About a half an inch long. Bicuspids. Canines?**  
**I don’t know I’m not a dentist,**  
**And I wasn’t about to go Google it either because I was too busy**  
**being stunned into** zombie like **silence.**  
**Fangs. This is new.**  
**Of all the tats spikes henna piercing scarring branding and** kidyounot  
**even devil horns,**  
**Of all the** book stores **in the city your insecure show-your-**  
**independence-body-mutilation had to come into Powell’s**  
**Forget that. Of** course **he would whatwasIthinking**  
**In the seconds seemed like minutes seemed like hours—**  
**I was trying to think… fake or** grinded **or implanted? Or maybe…?**  
**Now starting to, really becoming conscious of how:**  
**“Stirred” I was.**  
**Stirred was I.**  
Deepdown **.** Deeep doowwn  
**Abdomen.  Thighs. Loins.**  
**Seen men with Fangs in the movies hundreds of times**  
**but see real ones Grotesquely beautiful ones up close**  
**You suddenly realize the allure**  
**I was turned on and off simultaneously**  
**My Catholic physiognomy simultaneously made me believe yet**  
**crushed my instinct Yin yet Yang**  
**Simultaneously**  
**I don’t really know what I’m saying.**  
**Basically, to be base, my John Thomas didn’t know whether to pull a**  
**Frampton Comes Alive or shriek and** shrink **into my pelvis: “Closed… But Please, please, please, call again.”**  
**Because frankly what if his mouth came anywhere near my…**  
**Oh god:**  
**And he knew it: What he was doing**  
**He’d seen it before And he liked it. What he was doing:**  
**He had fangs.**  
**I guess that’s why you’d get Fangs.**  
**And like a zombie automaton mouth agape, staring, I put the receipt**  
**in the** books **the books in the bag put the bag in his hand and then**  
**stopped, we played a little tug of war, he raised an eyebrow and** I  
**said:**  
**“I’m sure you’ve um.**  
**Been asked. But… um,**  
**I guess what I want to inquire is um—**  
**Why?”**  
**“Why?” He says “Why? That’s new.** Usually **I get ‘how?’”**  
**No, I’m just like, ya know… Why?**  
**And he says “Well, I guess, so I can do this:**  
**[He hisses, loud, like** cat **, teeth bared and evil.]**  
**Oh. And I let go of the bag.**  
**And he smiles again.**  
**And as he leaves, as he struts, as he moves across the store**  
**he keeps her eyes on me… all the way, out… the door.**  
**And then… in the window, because I’m still watching, he pauses and**  
**he does…**  
**[with** index **finger, a** come hither **motion]**  
**…this.**  
**Well, I’m on the clock, working, but hey I also got a girlfriend and**  
**that didn’t stop my ass either.**  
**I darted “Takin’ a ten!” To whoever leaping the counter**  
**Through the door the crowds**  
**Out past the spare-a-dimes,**  
**The Beevo kids trolling for pot**  
**The Greenpeace voter registration clip** board-ers  
**He was already shakin’ can clear down Burnside.**  
**Far and** weeeeeee  
**His** face, **turns back with a smile**  
**And I almost get hit by a truck and I look back up**  
**and he’s even farther, down past Broadway**  
**Turn back and smile**  
**I look both ways and look up and he’s past Big Pink,**  
**Turn back and smile**  
**And I’m running now, and coughing and hacking and he’s like Fucking Peppy LePew springing along,**  
**Da-dup Da-dup**  
**I’m almost to where he is and she’s farther away,**  
**Like** he **stretches time, like a space jump,**  
**Past the old Theatre Paris, Voodoo Doughnut, Berbatti’s Pan**  
**And I feel like I’m slogging through heavy mud**  
**And bums with cans**  
**And tourists and Old Town pushers:**  
**“What do ya need bro? What do you need** man **?”**  
**And my feet are weighted with** lead **now and my joints feel rusty, Then I catch sight of him heading back toward the Burnside bridge! Our eyes meet and he’s gone as a streetcar goes by, I dash and dance**  
**and ache and the streetcar is past and**  
**There it is: Another Full Reveal**  
**The glorious Saturday Market, In full tilt**  
**Throngs of undulating crowds and oh shit.**  
**The music and the noise and the guy juggling garbage cans** and  
 cleavers **and shrunken heads and oh Christ I’m never ever,** ever  
 going **to find him and there he is! In the booths! and I run and it’s**  
**patchouli and pot and stinky candles and bam I run smack into the 7**  
**foot** tie dye **guy and I smell the wet leather and Birkenstocks and** I’m  
 high **and I can’t fucking get through all the strollers! My God!** The  
 strollers **and the strollers! The kid’s got legs! Let the kid walk** for  
 gods **sake! Why won’t the kid sleep at night? because the** child’s  
 been **in your damn stroller all fucking day! He’s atrophying for**  
**God’s sake and how does that stroller even fit in your car!**  
**And There he is! Oh my God! By the Handmade Organic Hemp Dream Pillows, (I could really use one of those) and he’s licking his**  
**lips now and his eyes gleam like that yellow reflection your**  
**headlights catch—and suddenly he’s a** pussy cat **raccoon** a opossum **And he’s gone and I trip over the Cat in the Hat accordion player, Jew’s harp, ukulele, banjo and the violin player is playing the same**  
**damn Irish jig over and over again BADLY and (take me to the**  
**bridge, where is that confounded bridge) and there!**  
**He stands among the glass blown bongs and he slowly melts into**  
**mist and is sucked into the carb of the tallest sweetest bong surely**  
**used by the girl with** kaleido **-Lennon eyes by the turnstile and don’t**  
**call me Shirley. And there! He’s hanging by his skin in Dean’s**  
**Original Ear Nest in Gory Jesus Christ Pose earrings piercing his**  
**entire body blood running down his face and his chest and his**  
**nipple and he’s smiling**  
**(And dipshit clipboard guy asks me if I have a few moments** for **the**  
**“ethical treatment of people who need my money” and I take his**  
**clipboard and toss it across the cobblestones)**  
**And there he is!**  
**In the elephant ear booth and I stumble to him and he’s in a red**  
**checkerboard apron with his hair still red and white cheeks**  
**and nose and he’s cute and I say “there you are” and he says “first**  
**an elephant ear” and I look down and he’s really handing me an**  
**elephant ear ripped from the side of an elephant’s head, blood and**  
**flies, and hay, and black curly hair and he laughs at the sky and his**  
**Fangs are bared and the sky’s all purple there were people running**  
**everywhere (and why no Prince T-shirts? They’d sell better than**  
**Neil Young for fuck sake)**  
**And I step back**  
**And fall ass over teakettle into the Skidmore Fountain and the taste of**  
**the water is McMenamin’s Hammerhead Ale which I believe is an**  
**IPA and a horse is licking it from my face and some ancient English**  
**bobby on the horse taps his billy against the fountain and says:**  
**“Sir? Sir? You there! The fountain is not for bathing in I’m going to**  
**have to ask you to leave** Huphup **cheerio”**  
**And there’s a beat a beat a beat**  
**I look across the silent market where all the crowds are gone now and**  
**the Nike urban tumbleweed plastic bags blow across the tracks but**  
**there’s no wind**  
**And the bobby is now on a people mover and he quietly slides across**  
**a vacant Waterfront Park and there’s nothing, nothing**  
**And he stands in front of me now**  
**And the quiet of the Willamette is lapping against the retaining wall**  
**And he’s closer now,**  
**And the Rose Festival Sailors are saluting me,**  
**As he’s closer,**  
**And the strippers on the Morrison Bridge throw roses in the waves**  
**As he puts her lips to mine,**  
**And he’s got fangs**  
**And reaches into my hair**  
**And he’s got fangs**  
**And The Couv is burning to the ground in the distance**  
**And he’s got Fangs**  
**And he pulls my head back and sideways and I see through his red**  
**hair an image, a man’s face,**  
**And I lock on the eyes of a Plaque of Bud Clark**  
**And I reflect his sweet curly mustached St. Nick smile as I now look**  
**up to the** clouds **the lovely ubiquitous clouds breaking open a drizzly Portland ubiquitous rain and his ubiquitous Fangs pierce my**  
**ubiquitous flesh.**  
**And after my ubiquitous Portland nightmare of the ubiquitous**  
**vampire man, I reach and put a hand** upon **my tender neck**  
**And I feel the two bumps**  
**And I feel light headed**  
**And in the** mirror **I sure look pale…**  
**Like I’ve seen a ghost**  
**And the wounds are fresh**  
**And I think to myself…**  
**Well. That’s new.**

 

The crowd bursts in applause, and, apparently, Kylo Ren was the last one for the night. The lights go up and the actors and actresses get on stage to bow. Kylo claps eyes on Armitage and breaks out into a wide smile before turning to go to the back of the house.

Armitage lags behind as the crowd shuffles out until a small woman emerges from the back, “Armitage, right?” He nods.

“Follow me, Kylo wants to see you.” She leads him backstage, well, not much of a backstage. There’s no formal dressing rooms just some curtains set up for people to change in. Kylo emerges from one of the curtains, “let’s get the fuck outta here,” leading Hux through the back exit into and alley.

“You wanna grab dinner?”

“Let me check my macros,” Ben pulls out his phone and swipes to the app.

“If you can’t we can just walk around.”

“Well, I am hungry and I can do it. I know a good place, follow me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those not in the know, I have sprinkled real Adam Driver things through the story. Things like eating an entire chicken and half a dozen eggs, him running a mile away from his destination which was Julliard back in the day to his the charity: Arts in the Armed Forces. I am from Portland, OR. I thought it would be cute to add Kylo Ren's charity script to reflect what I see.


	9. Chapter 9

Putting his earbuds in and exiting London Vouge Magazine’s building. Blissfully not raining today.

 

Kylo: “Finished the shoot, it went well.”

Emily: “Great! No work this weekend. Monday 10AM is the next photo shoot with UK People and then after that I'll meet you at Disney for the contract signing.”

Kylo: “Sounds good.”

Kylo: “Have you seen the play yet?”

Emily: “I haven’t actually! When is the last show?”

Kylo: “Friday. I’ll send you a ticket.”

Emily: “Thank you! I look forward to seeing you in action! Goodnight!”

 

Ben checks his phone, seeing he has another shift and hops the bus to go in that direction.

The cafe is surprisingly not swamped given the hour. Either the big man has been cutting corners when it comes to food quality or people just aren’t interested anymore--it doesn’t matter.

 

Ben doesn’t walk into the back to deposit his stuff. Big boss peeks his head out from the kitchen, “glad you're here, we’re short staffed this evening.”

He looks around the room, one last time, “I don't care about that. Cut me my cheque, I'm quitting.”

The man walks out and crosses his chest, “got good work now?”

“Yeah.”

The owner heads to his office, running the machine and then returns: “best of luck on your endeavors.” They shake hands and Ben pockets the cheque.

 

It's been quite a while since Ben was able to walk just to walk. Running from go-sees to work to plays to small bit things to body maintenance appointments to weightlifting to meetings to script memorization to shows is a gauntlet that leaves little time other than sleep, eat and see Armitage.

Passing by a couple of bins, he walks. There's a man coming towards him from the other side of the alley.

The man flips a switchblade open, “Gimme your wallet and phone NOW!”

Ben pulls out his earbuds, placing them in his pocket, “What was that?”

“Give me your wallet and your phone!” The man waves his switchblade in front of him.

“Oh, okay.” He steps forward and feints towards reaching for his pocket before grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting hard to make the blade fall to the ground. The man yells and he's flipped around and twisted around his back. The man reaches uselessly behind him, unable to find a hold on Ben.

Ben snarls, “you're a fucking idiot.”

Ben twists his arm tight, shoving his foot on the back of his kneecap and forces him to lay down in the middle of the dirty alley.

The man lands with a hard crack of his knees hitting the concrete. Ben grabs his other arm and bends it behind him, a knee to his back and the attacker completely immobilized.

“What to do with you now? Call the police?” Ben rifles through his pockets finding more money, between the pounds are IDs of women and many others. He rifled through another pocket, finding the man’s wallet and placing it next to his head.

“I think you deserve worse for preying on women,” Ben raises a fist, punching him in the head.

Dazed, the man only moans in pain. Ben quickly flips him, making sure to grind his nose on the concrete, shoving the attacker's hands on his back and lays his knees heavily on him to trap him.

The man kicks helplessly, unable to kick off Ben, a 1.89-meter tall weightlifter.

Ben grins, wrapping his hand around the man’s throats and his eyes widen. He tries to buck off Ben but it's useless. Squeezing, it's so easy. The man chokes. Ben raises another fist and punches him in the face. Blood gushes from his nose, rolling down his cheeks. It's so fucking beautiful.

“This is your fucking lesson, you cunt, don't mug people ever again,” he punches the man again, “and you're going to spend the next fucking six months drinking through a straw for hurting women.”

Ben punches him repeatedly, closing his hand around the man’s throat. I feel alive.

He takes a break, breathing heavily and deeply, hard as a rock and pants straining to contain him. The man looks up at him, blinking his eyes and drawing breathe as though he spent a little too much time underwater.

Commanding, “Tell me, ‘I am a stupid fucking faggot and I will never hurt anyone again,’” he breathes hard and close to the man’s face.

The man blinks, mouth open but not speaking. Ben responds by spitting on the man’s face and wrapping both hands around his throat.

The man turns a light shade of blue and Ben breaks out into a grin.

“You say the words or you die here in this filthy fucking alley,” Ben releases his hands.

It takes him a bit for him to choke out the words, “I am a stupid fucking faggot and I will never hurt anyone again,” quietly.

“What was that? I couldn't hear you,” Ben backhands him across the face.

Big tears roll down his eyes onto the alley, “I am a stupid fucking faggot and I will never hurt anyone again.”

“Again!”

“I am a stupid ducking faggot and I will never hurt anyone again.”

“Again!”

“Please, please, no,” the man cries.

Ben grabs the man’s hair tugging it roughly to force his head to crack against the concrete, “again or you die and stupidly easily too. Loudly. Unless you prefer to have your neck split open like a pig and you bleed out.”

The man cries out, “I am a stupid fucking faggot and I will never hurt anyone again.”

Ben reaches down to the man’s wallet, flipping through it to grab his ID card, “I know where you fucking live now, you fucking scummy shitbag.”

The man cries pitifully. “Shut up,” Ben punches him, landing blow after blow on the man’s jaw alternating each hand with a loud crunch of it under his weight. The man loses consciousness.

 

Ben looks up to the sky, a thick sheen of sweat covering him. Fuck. Is this what Poe feels like? Euphoria? Yes. Ben snakes a hand down, reaching into his pants to give some relief to his now diamond hard cock. His knuckles are bloody and raw. Doesn't matter. Dark thick clouds release their water. Heavy and oppressing. Ben laughs, knees on an unconscious bloody scumbag’s chest. Looking down, he finds the switchblade open nearby and he picks it up and pockets it before standing up. Ben draws his hood up, taking one last look at the man and then turns to leave.

 

He reaches into his pocket, finding texts from Armitage. Ben boards the bus and heads home.

Armitage: “Are you okay?”

Armitage: “I'm worried.”

Armitage: “I assume you're work went super late tonight. Text me when you can.”

Ben texts back: “sorry. friday?”

Not ten seconds pass before he got a reply.

Armitage: “Sure. Anything, in particular, you wish to do?”

Ben: “come see me perform, it's the last show.”

Armitage: “Sure.”

Ben sends a ticket over to him, a reserved box seat.

 

When Ben unlocks the door, he hears the third and, well, highly illegal roommate home. The man pops out from behind the blanket. You live with me but I don't even ducking remember your name. Fuck.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Good news for me but bad news for you,” the man says, clasping his hands together.

“I'm up for both.”

“I've got a better job. Way better. I appreciate you letting me be here for so long but now I’m able to get into my own place up north. I'll be out on the first.”

Ben smiles, “congrats man, where you working?”

“Carpentry, got a job up north.”

“Best of luck to you.”

“Same to you.”

 

He beelines to the washroom, running his hands under the sink, red then pink water flows down the drain. He looks up into the mirror, seeing his blown out eyes. Like he's high or something. It's a different high from being on stage. He finishes up and goes to his bedroom to get some relief. Ben strips off as fast as he could which is pretty fast considering all the speed changes he's done behind the stage. Landing hard on his bed, grabbing the lube next to him, throwing a glob of it onto his hand. He wraps his hand around his cock and grits his teeth. Forcing the bloody man in the alley’s mouth open, shoving his cock inside and fucking him hard and fast. Grabbing the switchblade, cutting his clothes off and admiring the blood he draws. Bringing the knife to his neck, pressing just hard enough to let a little blood drop onto it, down his neck before slipping it in.

 

Fuck. Ben cums hard onto his chest. Sleep consumes him.

 


	10. Chapter 10

A new day and new text messages from Ben:

Ben: “how did the case go?” 

Hux sighs and replies: “Still some things to work out so it was delayed for another month. I’m glad for it, I could use the time to comb through everything again. It is...anxiety-inducing.”

Ben: “i’m glad you got the time. typing of which, what’re you doing tonight?”

Armitage: “Hanging out with you I hope?”

Ben: “fuck yeah you are.”  

Armitage: “What are we doing?”

Ben: “you’ll just have to wait and see ;)”

Armitage: “Oh joy.”

 

Around 5 PM, Ben sends him an address and soon he is standing in front of the business. Bright pirate lights and skeletons line the entrance, ‘Glow in the Dark Mini Golf,’ it reads. I haven’t done this since I was a kid.

Ben comes up behind him, “fucking great idea, huh?”

Hux chuckles, “it’s been too long since I’ve tried.”

“That’s fine, I’m fucking shit at it too so I suspect that we’ll be evenly matched!”

They go inside and each pay for themselves, Armitage grabbing two red glow in the dark putters.

Ben twirls the putter in his hand, “hey, let’s make this interesting.”

“Yeah?”

“Whoever wins the hole gets to ask a question of the other.”

Armitage places the ball at the starting line of the first hole, “okay.”

Ben shakes his head, “no no, I like a bet that whoever wins the game gets to ask something, like, go to a specific place for a date or something like that.” 

He looks up from practice swinging, “why not do both?”

“You’re on, fucker!”

He smiles and putts the ball forward. Ben lines up his shot and takes it, definitely going much farther than Hux but stuck behind some fake glowing rock.

The next three shots go poorly for Ben and Armitage lands the hole. They walk to the next hole nearby.

“What’s your question?”

“Hmmm...what is your favorite thing about me?”

Ben laughs, “your mouth.” Hux sours at that.

“No no, that’s the second thing. The favorite thing is you not giving a fucking shit what people think of you and you not being intimidated or star struck with me.”

He huffs and begins the next round shooting the stupid putt into some fake glowing grass. Ben, the lucky fucker manages to get a hole in one. Huh. His f-bombs are rubbing off on me.

“Huh, I didn’t think of the questions ahead of time, hmm.”

“Think you’d lose so quickly?” Hux quips.

Ben throws him a look, “I know my question now: how many partners have you had?”

Armitage lines up the next shot, taking it without answering it first, “four. Not including Scene partners.”

“Scene partners?”

Hux throws a grin at him, “you’ll have to win a hole to know what that is.”

Determinedly, Ben putts the ball and overshoots it. Armitage squarely wins this hole.

He swings the putter around, “what turns you on? I mean, besides getting your cock wet.”

All bravado was gone, “there’s a lot of things…” Ben murmurs.

“Just tell me one thing then,” He supplies.

He blushes, “that night we were together when you pinned my arms up. I liked that a lot. Your voice. The way you said it.”

I knew that already. Armitage puts a hole in one without effort, the ball going up a ramp and down through a chute into the hole.

“I think you’re cheating now,” squatting down at the chute at his ball who didn’t hit the hole.

He can’t hold the grin from his face, “Nope! What’s one of your fantasies?”

He rises to his feet and looks around at some of the other people in the room, “really? Here?”

“Yes. Here.”

Ben hesitates and furrows his brow. Hux makes a ‘come hither’ motion which he follows.

“You don’t have to be loud, say it in my ear.”

He flushes but moves closer, “I like things rough.”

Some of his red hairs fall out of place as he shakes his head, “more specific, you said that before.”

Ben bites his lip, seemingly both to pout and be drinking something at the same time which entrances Hux which tells him that this is important to him.

“I like to be choked,” Ben looks and steps away, clearly brooding. 

“With a hand? A cock? An object of some kind? Details are important here.”

He doesn’t answer, seeming to be a thousand miles away from Hux.

Armitage pokes him with a finger, “let me guess, I need to win another hole to know the answer to that, huh?”

“Exactly.”

The game heats up, neck and neck with six shots up with neither of them able to get the stupid ball up a steep ramp and beyond the hands of a skeleton pirate who guards the hole. Neither of them has the timing of it.

“Fuck this hole and the fucker who made it.”

“Agreed.”

“You wanna skip this one?”

“Yes.”

They grab their balls and walk to the next hole which looks less infuriating. Armitage swings and lands a clean shot near the hole but misses the next shot. Ben being next lands the hole.

“What’s a Scene partner?”

“A Scene partner is someone who consensually agrees to do a Scene together. Kind of like a contract but nothing super official with paper and ink unless that is their thing.”

“Scene?”

“Another hole, another answer.”

Hux loves this, something that Ben could pull out his phone and look up quite easily but the look in Ben’s eyes and mouth say that this game is more important than he lets on. It’s always the mouth since he admitted his fantasy. Does he know this gives him away?

Fortunately for Armitage, he wins the next hole and he waits expectantly, “well?”

He shakes his head, unable to meet his eyes,“I can’t. Not here.”

“Okay. Later maybe? I don’t like to push.” His shame is palpable like curdled milk accidentally poured into a cup of perfectly brewed tea. Doesn’t mean that the whole pot of tea is ruined though. Probably should not ask any more questions along those lines.

They continue the game, the next time Ben wins a hole he forgets about asking what a Scene is, preferring to keep things more light and benign. A shame.

At the last hole, Ben manages to squeak by a win. He grabs Armitage’s putt and places it back with the others at the front counter.

The air is cool but thankfully it’s not raining like it usually is in the London night. He checks his phone, responding with a little after 10 PM. Ben also withdraws his phone, flicking to a number that picks up, “hey, it’s still the same code, right?” He murmurs and then hangs up.

“What was that about?”

“An exclusive VIP experience for me winning the game,” he tugs on his hand, “a limited experience only allowed after 10 PM,” Ben flashes a grin back at him as he drags Armitage four blocks down.

They go down another alley, stopping at a door with a code on it. Ben pushes the buttons which beep to allow them both in. Another door, another code he puts in. Soon the smell of chlorine fills his nostrils. The lights are low on the pool, unable to be turned off. Cool blue tiles line the pool with a concrete white bottom.

“Do you like it? The cameras are off by the way. No security. Not big enough to warrant it actually.” Ben’s voice echoes, and reaches the edge of the pool and begins taking off his shirt.

“Skinny dipping, huh?” Armitage frowns. It’s not something he’s brought up. Not because he’s embarrassed but because he just hasn’t found the appropriate moment to do so. After the conversations he has had with Ben, he didn’t notice or realize the scars on his chest and what they meant.

His shoes next then his socks, Ben rips his shirt off, going towards his buttons on his black jeans. Always black with Ben Solo.

“Hey,” Armitage serious, “I need to tell you something.” Ben turns and stops shucking his clothes off himself.

“You didn’t notice that night we were together,” and they haven’t been together like that since “I hope it’s okay with you but I’m Trans.”

Ben blinks, motioning to his own chest, “you want to grow boobs?”

Armitage Hux shakes his head, crosses his arms and looks away, “no, more like I cut them off. A long time ago now.”

Armitage looks at the pool, still and lifeless like his relationships. He has struggled with the inevitable rejection. Not many people wanted to be with him once they found out. But now it smacks him in the face: he can’t hide it anymore. Not with incurring wraith from Ben for leading him on.

Ben pads over to Armitage and kisses his forehead, which surprises Hux.

“I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“Oh. Good. I was planning, as you say, getting the fuck outta here if you were to say something else.”

Ben smiles, “good fucking shit.”

He lowers his hands towards the edge of Armitage’s shirt, and Hux uncrosses his arms to allow him to pull the shirt off of him to see his undershirt.

“Wow, so pretty, definitely didn’t see this in the dark” Ben kisses the freckles on his shoulders. Hux sighs into the touch, opening his eyes to see the expanse of Ben’s skin. There are more scars than he would expect on someone and half a dozen cigarette burn scars on him. Huh, interesting. He doesn’t mention it to Ben.

They shuck off the rest of their clothes, Ben running and cannonballing into the pool making the water splash over the surface concrete. Hux toes the water, before slowly sliding down into the water and grabs onto the edge.

Water is fucking terrifying. Anxiety grips his chest and into his throat.

Ben swims like a swan or something intricate and flashy before returning to Hux, “whats wrong?”

Armitage chokes, “I don’t know how to swim.” I’m going to pass out and die in this water.

He swims over, concern in his eyes, “here, I’ll help you to the shallow water." He panics, “the faster the better!” Ben wraps an arm around his chest and pulls him towards the shallow water, depositing him on the lowest step.

Hux covers his face and shakes, saying through fingers, “sorry, my anxiety gets to me.” He huffs, “always out of nowhere. It’s embarrassing.” 

Ben strokes his knee, “hey! I will teach you something I learned, I think it’ll be helpful, watch!” Ben places his palms together as though he is praying: “Expel the breath from your lungs when like this, and then,” he spreads his palms, keeping his fingers together and move to the center, “this is when you breathe in. Nice and measured.” Armitage copies Ben. Ben slows his hands with each pass which Armitage passes.

He shakes his head, “that was stupid. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It happens.” Time passes between him, Hux frowning with his chin on his hands.

Ben chirps, “you wanna learn how to swim?”

“That’s probably for the best.”

They spend the next hour practicing in the shallow water, “yes, yes, just like that! Dog paddle is pretty easy.” Hux puffs, keeping his head above the water and finally not choking on the pool water and one small anxiety attack he is able to get through much easier with Ben there. After a while longer he stands up in the shallow water. Tired of this.

Ben also stands in the shallow water, moving towards him and kisses him. 

He deepens the kiss, unable to resist placing his hand in the dark now wet hair. Ben pushes him towards the edge of the pool until his legs scrape against the side of it. Tracing his hands across his collarbones, Ben dips down to nip at them before moving back up to kiss Hux.

He breaks a kiss, trailing fingers down his arms, “now that you’re alone, do you want to tell me how you like it? The choking bit.”

Ben blinks and then blushes, “I-um,” he looks away.

Hux lays a hand under his chin and raises it, “I can’t do it if I don’t know.”

He jerks out of the grasp, turning away from him and crossing his arms, “I’m a monster. A fucking monster. I don’t know why I told you.”

Armitage shakes his head which Ben can’t see anyways. He continues: “I’m a monster---a monster. And I liked it, I fucking loved it! I’m a fucking freak,” he chokes.

Whoever has programmed this nonsense in his head just needs to die. Toss out the old broken cup, bring out a new one. Pour from the pot and Armitage plans to do so. He sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder, Ben is shaking: “First: you’re not. Second: it’s fine. Third: Lots and lots of people are into things that society doesn’t approve of. That doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you human.” Hux continues, “part of me thinks that everybody has these things---these secret desires, and some of us are able to express them. Consensually. With respect to boundaries and desires. A contract, an experience between two or more people. Whatever that may form. That is a Scene.”

Ben looks back at him, eyes wide, “I see now. And you do this?”

“Yes. Lots.”

“And this is okay?”

“If they consent to it then yes.”

Ben eyes darken and brows knit together, “even the really fucked up shit?”

“Yes. Consent is key.”

Ben nods, turning back towards him.

Armitage asks, “What do you need?”

He looks down, blushing but not speaking.

“I can’t read your mind, unfortunately.”

Ben raises his hand shakily, grabbing Hux’s and lacing fingers together. Then he unlaces them and moves Hux’s hand to his throat, “like this,” darkly.

Armitage grins, “even this is fine. I have your consent, yes?”

Ben nods.

“I have a feeling you’ll like it better when I give you a handie as well, it’s amazing, are you interested?”

Ben nods again.

“Okay. Hold up your hand.”

“Hand?” Ben does it anyways.

“Yeah, onto my shoulder, when you squeeze my shoulder or if you arm drops then I’ll stop. Safer practice and all that.”

“Are you ready?”

Ben’s brows knit together in anticipation,“Yes. Please.”

Armitage Hux applies a light pressure on his thumb, index and middle fingers around his throat. Not obstructing the airway but focusing on the blood through his veins.

Ben relaxes into the hold, “fuck,” he groans. A delicacy.

He experiments with pressing deeper into his throat which forces Ben to stand up straighter. Hux switches positions with Ben, dragging him by the neck to have him pressed against the side of the pool.

Ben lets out a delicious moan when pushed against the wall.

He leans closer to his face, licking Ben’s cheek, “you like this a lot, huh?”

He snakes his other hand down Ben’s stomach to grasp his hard cock, pumping it hard and fast and increasing the pressure on his neck.

Ben growls, eyes rolling in the back of his head and for a moment Hux thinks that he should stop but there’s no pressure on his shoulder and his arm hasn’t dropped. 

Hux moves in closer, not stopping the pressure on his neck or around his cock, crushing his lips against his before breaking off.

“Please,” he chants.

“Yes?”

“Please, I need to cum.” he moans which echoes off the water and through the room.

Armitage licks his cheek, moving to his ear, "you're beautiful with my hand around your neck. The most beautiful color in all the world. The way you plead and beg to cum makes me want to make you wait. I'd do lots of things to see you on your knees again begging me to blood choke you every day. Knowing that my handprint will be there for days."

At the end of that sentence, Ben shudders violently and cums in Hux’s fast hand and into the water. His arm drops and Armitage removes his hand from his throat, pulling him into a hug and pressing a hand through his hair to steady him.

Ben breathes heavily onto Hux. He runs his fingers down his back gently until Ben returns to earth. 

“That was intense.”

“It usually is.”

“Yes, but this, this is nice…” Ben buries his head into Hux’s shoulder. He huffs, “it’s never been like this.”

“Hm?”

Ben doesn’t elaborate. 

 

Both exhausted, they shrug their clothes on. Armitage orders an Uber to his flat and, without leaving a hand on Ben through the whole trip, they both land in his bed heavily. Hux pulls Ben to his chest and they drift off. 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Armitage keeps pulling out his phone to check his messages and finding nothing. Putting an elbow on the desk, leaning a hand against it, staring through the window at nothingness.

 

Phasma takes a seat in front of him, “boy troubles?”

He huffs, “Maybe. I dunno. He doesn't respond much. Had to cancel the last two times. I know he's been busy with work stuff but he usually sends something of it. I'm seeing him tonight though, I don't know what to say to him.”

“Hmm…” Phasma touches a finger to her chin, “I think I would just ask. Plainly. That works.”

“Maybe, he's not the type to share much. He's the type to focus on in the moment, deflects questions about himself and rather hear about me.”

Phasma nods.

“What does it mean?”

She leans forward, “my guess---and I'm taking a shot in the dark, something happened to him and something bad to make him keep to himself like this. A terrible childhood, abuse or something like that. Children who grow up in that environment---without control they tend to want to control it when they're older. Want to laser focus on other stuff instead. Maybe it's a result from PTSD. Or he has a secret marriage with children and you're the side piece.”

Armitage shakes his head, “ I'm not some side piece, he's super inexperienced.”

“Oh.”

He continues: “He hates people. Strange considering he's in a field that involves people. Just an extreme introvert. He's funny though when it's just me and him. This drifting away thing is unusual.”

“I see. Just ask plainly then.”

He nods, “thanks for the advice.”

Phasma claps him on the shoulder, “anytime. I've got ice cream and can make nachos or get takeaway if you find out that you're the side piece. I'm not going out.”

He laughs, “that sounds good too!”

 

Armitage arrives early, seeing the FINAL SHOW on the marquee. The play has been on stage for months but apparently Ben says that it's been sold out every night. Ben has had to cancel twice before so seeing him in any form is better than none.

 

Kylo Ren is still as brilliant---as intense---as commanding as the first time Hux saw him. The crowd gives an ovation.

 

Armitage makes his way to the backstage, holding up his backstage pass to allow him entry. He knocks on the same door that holds Kylo Ren on the front.

“Come in,” the same voice as before. Armitage has noticed differences between the Kylo Ren versus the Ben Solo. Although both not a fan of almost all people, Kylo is one of fewer words than with Armitage. The cadence, voice depth, and even a slightly different accent than what Ben is.

“Hello.”

“Hey, How're you?”

“Fine.”

Ben seems especially off. More standoff like being treated like the strangers he encounters.

“What's wrong?”

Kylo doesn't reply, combing his hair back. Probably just not into talking where people can barge in I guess. His hair is getting long and he pulls it into a ponytail, grabbing his jacket, “let's go,” and heads out the door. Kylo leads the way to the back exit, pushing the door open but instead of walking out he peers out.

He lets out a frustrated growl, “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Paparazzi.”

“Oh.”

A pause, “wanna try the front?”

“There's way more up front.”

An actress walks up next to them, “hey, can I get by?”

Kylo steps away from the door and she pushes it open. Six people with cameras flash their photos and push their audio recorders. All of them crowd around her.

“Now’s our chance now that they're distracted.”

Hux goes out first followed closely to shield the dark haired man from being seen by the paparazzi. Together they head down the alley, Ben taking long and fast strides to get as far away. Armitage struggles to keep up.

 

Ben pivots to go down another street and then Ben stops.

Armitage catches up, taking a breath before asking: “Something happen?”

“The paparazzi. I hate them,” Ben wraps his arms around himself, scowling.

There's more to it.

“I have a feeling it is more than that.”

He shakes his head, “they're an issue. It's gonna be an issue. I just. I can't.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He crosses his arms, “I can't. I can't ask you to suffer through this. It's horrible and it ruins people and they never fucking stop. Day or night. I need to go.” Ben turns his back, jacket swaying from his shoulders.

 

It was in that moment, Armitage felt that this was Ben’s final farewell but that’s not going to happen. The anxiety grips him.

 

“Ben---wait!”

Ben pauses.

“I don't know what's going but, like, I don't care about the paparazzi. I don't care about this attention you're getting. I don't care about the magazines or whatever the fuck else people in this world think about you.” He takes a breath.

“I don't care if you're on the sexiest list of men for the year,” Hux gulps, “I don't give a fuck if you're in a Marvel movie or Xmen or in Star Wars!”

He sighs, “I care about you as you: as Ben Solo not Kylo Ren the actor. I may not understand all of it but I fucking care---I fucking about you a lot!”

 

Ben turns around, stunned. And just as that time when Armitage gazed into his big beautiful dark brown eyes, the halo is there. Maybe this is some cheesy fucking romcom shit but for now he's happy.

He strides over, closing the distance between them and kisses the center of his forehead. Armitage blinks. Those entrancing eyes stare back at him, intense and so dark Hux could fall through them.

Ben looks down, grabbing Hux’s hands between his, “I'm going to be in Star Wars, I'm signing the papers on Monday. I can't tell anybody else.”

 

Armitage blinks.

 

Ben looks up into Hux’s eyes, “I can't refuse it, something this big. It's been my dream. With it is long grueling days and nights and weekends traveling around the world. I'm going to be gone most of the year.”

Ben sighs, “Are you okay with that?”

Armitage, instead of replying verbally grabs Ben’s waist and pulls him in to kiss him. Ben grabs him tightly as well, thumbing the other’s hips and deepening the kiss. Hux’s hand reaches up into his hair, and pulls out his ponytail to card through it.

Armitage breaks it off, “chase your dreams. I'm here for you.”

Ben leans forward into the crook of Hux’s neck and he closes his eyes. Hux holds him.

“Sorry, I just.”

Hux waits, seeing Ben struggle with the words.

“Everybody leaves me or abandoned me. Even when they're people who are supposed to give a shit.”

So that's it. Phasma was right.

He squeezes tightly around Ben and they both sigh.

“I'm sorry.”

“It is what it is. I just expect it to happen again. I dunno. Just. Why me?”

 

Armitage smiles, “there's just something about you.”


End file.
